#softer than marshmallows

[bunnys-kisses]

fox!phillip graves

cw: pwp/smut, hybrid!au, fox!graves, bunny!reader, breeding, pregnancy, innocent!reader, possessive behaviour

bunny says: *big shrug*

graves had a thing about taking in strays. the little bunny who came into his nice home. he was a well to do fox, and he couldn't stand the sight of you there near the edge of his property in so little. you were going to catch a cold!

but don't worry, the fox hybrid would take care of you. he bathed you, dressed you, fed you. he was just smitten by you. he even let you snuggle up with him when he watched the football game on the big television he had.

"do you like that?" he asked as he stroked your ears, "do you know what game this is, little one?" he pushed the hair out of your eyes.

you nodded, "i..i think i do."

he chuckled and got behind those long ears, "aw, well. let me explain the rules to you." he then reached over and pulled the throw blanket further over top of you. you were so frail, something this small and weak should be protected. and graves loved saving the day.

when you saw a streak of orange around the large house he owned, you'd chase after it. usually it was graves' tail. you were just so innocent. over the next few days he'd ask questions about your life before he met you.

you were a virgin, you had no bunnies hidden somewhere, yes the tail was sensitive, and you loved stews. it was honestly endearing. he promised he'd make you all the stews you wanted.

you were often cuddled up beside him. he wasn't a wildling like you, he was a proper man. he told you he led a group of strong men. and you looked up at him with those darling eyes of yours.

"but i thought you were the strongest man."

he chuckled and kissed the top of your head. he rubbed your face, and made you look at him, "i am darlin'."

it wasn't hard to get him to sink his heavy cock into your sweet bunny cunt. he sat on the edge of the bed, naked and his cock at full attention. he watched you strip from the clothes he bought for you. you were still getting used to the cute dressed and delicate fabrics.

there was a lot he had to teach you about the finer things in life. he was aroused at the sight of you. his little bunny. who was sweeter than apple pie and softer than marshmallows. he wondered how you managed to survive this long.

"my little bunny." he purred as he took you by the hips and got you seated on his cock. he'd make sure that his cock was situated firmly against your cervix.

"feels big." you whimpered.

"yeah, yeah. always hurts the first time, but i promise you'll feel good soon." he held onto your softer hips. no longer were you skin and bone. making sure you were fed.

you held onto his shoulders as he started to help you get comfortable with the pace he liked. his tail moved on the bed behind him as he watched you begin to move on your own.

"like a pro, huh? you sure you've never been with a man before."

you shook your head, "no. only you."

well wasn't he special. he hoped you'd get used to this position with time. as it was one of the more comfortable ways to have sex when pregnant with kits. his hands trailed up and down your sides. you'd be making a good mama for his babies.

the pleasure began to curl up in your gut as you continued to ride him. he was right, it was feeling better!

"such a cute little bunny." he purred. he looked perfect from those blue eyes to those perfect teeth. with just a bit of his fangs poking out. bunnies and foxes rarely get along, so it was quite the sight to see two fucking.

your heartbeat was in your throat as you continued to feel his cock nudge up into the deepest parts of you. you ran your nails across his shoulders as you arched your back.

"please, phillip." you whimpered.

He palmed your ass and grabbed it, "good girl." his voice was low, "see you know where you are in the food chain." he chuckled softly, his voice was tinged with venom, "bunnies need to keep their cunts full. reason why you breed so fast. but i think you're more suited to live a comfortable life with me. be full of fox seed." he flashed his white teeth at you.

you covered your face your hands, a little embarrassed by your words. but he took them away from you. he looked into your eyes he held onto your hands in his larger hands. he bucked his hips with a rapid movement.

"don't hide yourself from me. i want to see my mate. don't make me tie you up."

"no, phillip." you whimpered. he placed your hands back on his shoulders and continued to thrust up into you. he controlled the pace, he was a man who had to be in control or else.

he watched your breasts bounce with each thrusts of your hips. you bounced on him like it was a game, but he knew that from the look on your face you were feeling very good.

"pretty bunny." he purred, "i love the sight of your little body fucking yourself onto my cock. i have so much to teach you." he chuckled darkly, "make sure you know how to please your mate. but you're a good learner aren't you?" he took you by the face to look at him square in the eyes.

you nodded, "yes, phillip. i'm a good bunny." you looked so cute, how you stuck out your bottom lip. your head felt hazy as you continued to move against him. your bedroom felt hot as did the pit in your stomach.

"gonna breed your little bunny cunt so nicely." he purred, "that's what you were made for right? for me? that's why nothing else tried to touch you in the forest. no one tainted you for me." his voice was harsh as he felt the rush of pleasure in his body.

you two continued to hump together, the two of you fucked like the animals you were. mating like beasts. he couldn't wait until you were all plush with his kits. he knew you'd be such a good mother to them.

he grabbed at your ass and thrusted up into you even harder. he leaned up and made out with you sloppily. you moaned into the kiss as you both climaxed at the same time.

he slumped a little from the rush to his head. he pressed his face up against your chest as he tried to catch his breath. you held onto him as you started to come down. well, you've never felt something like that before.

when he came to his senses, he looked up at you once more. he smiled, "get on the bed. i ain't done with you. not until it takes." there was a predatory nature in his eyes as you scrambled to get under him once more.

a few sloppy kisses on the lips and he sank his hard cock into you. you kicked out your legs for a moment from the feeling of his heavy cock in you. but then mellowed out, accepting that your bunny cunt was going to be used tonight.

-

you puffed out your cheeks and rubbed your lower back. one kit shifted which awoke the other. it wasn't easy being a bunny taking care of two kits.

graves loved the sight of it though. anything you needed, he got for you. he made sure his bunny mate was taken care of! nothing less than the best for you. you were still quite clingy as you waddled through your large home to find your mate.

you were clay between graves' fingers. he was going to make you into the ideal den mother. and he'd be the proud father of all your children. don't worry there was enough room in the house to make sure that your little babies were all safe and sound.

you found him in his office, what he noticed first was the belly as he entered his field of vision. he reached for it and then your hips to put you down onto his lap. he kissed your neck and his cock stirred in his pants.

"my perfect mate." he chuckled, "just perfect. now why don't you get cozy on the pull out bed and let me finish this." he loved his mate. he loved you so much.

this was a lot better than being in the forest. graves may have fangs. but he'd never hurt his little cotton tailed rabbit. <3

xoxo, bunny

[luvnami]

"you kiss the back of my knees and i want to cry. only/the sun has come this close, only the sun" - shauna barbosa

ushijima wakatoshi is a quiet sleeper. you realise that, because he spends weekend nights in your dorm. it’s an unsaid schedule that makes sure the both of you manage to catch some time together amidst lectures, meetings and training sessions. though, part of it is thanks to your horrible sleep schedule. 

it’s currently 3.28am and ushijima is asleep in your bed. he’s a back sleeper, keeps the covers tucked up to his chest, and barely moves. sometimes he snores when he’s really tired. he favours shorts and cotton t-shirts in the summer months, trading them for sweatpants and pullovers when it gets colder. you bought matching cat paw socks and ushijima wears them on occasion because he likes matching items even though his friends think it’s cheesy and more importantly, because he loves you. 

you tap away at your laptop, seated at the desk next to your bed. you have an assignment due next month so you figured you should get some preliminary research done. ushijima stirs in his sleep. you glance over, his hair askew on his forehead and your stuffed rilakkuma sitting politely next to him. a second passes before he cracks open his eyes. 

“toshi?” you reach over and brush his hair away from his forehead. “what’s wrong?”

ushijima mumbles something incoherent. 

“hmm?” 

he thinks that your fingers are softer than his, calloused from training and roughened over the years. he likes that. he likes that you’re soft, that you feel warm and gooey like a marshmallow when you hug him, arms wrapped around his chest and eyes creased from smiling up at him. 

“come sleep with me. it’s late,” ushijima murmurs. 

he beckons you to his side by stretching an arm out. you oblige. you close your laptop and switch off your desk light, bathing the room in darkness. the bed is warm, as warm as him. 

ushijima turns onto his side and nuzzles his face into your neck. you smell nice. you fit just right in his arms. your hand splayed between his shoulder blades and leg tossed over his feels like the afternoon sunlight spilling infinitely through a window. only the sun has touched him this close, only the sun. 

you kiss the soft skin of his temple and ushijima understands what love is.

he pulls the covers over your shoulder and tugs you closer to him. you are his love.

[jweekgoji]

Yandere!Five/Reader (platonic/headcanons)

the story contains: spoilers for season 4 (+ some changes in plot), yandere!five(-s), strictly platonic, five here is in his 20s (physically) and in his late 60s (mentally), overprotective old man five, soft yan!Five, OOC cuz it's yanderes 🤷

I really like to imagine Five being overprotective over someone young and still full of joy. You can be either a kid of one of his siblings, or just a random child he found during his time in The Commission. It wouldn't be that far away from reality, The Handler took little Lila and trained her to do the dirty job, no one would be surprised if that creepy woman ends up kidnapping another child born on October 1st for herself.

Either way, Five is a good familial figure. We all saw how he acts towards little Grace, making small cheering comments from time to time to his niece when she is enjoying her birthday party. I expect him to be much softer if it's someone who is always close to him and constantly tags along with Five. Let's say, he knows you enough to let you go with him at the end of Season 3, since all of his siblings left, he basically has no other choice but to be the only one who has to protect you.

At first, he might get a little irritated because of it. It's not because he finds you annoying or hates being around kids. The problem is, he is not a social person himself. He never had a proper childhood because he spent 45 years stuck in the apocalypse. Then his time in The Commission, stuck with people either invading his personal space, or always staring at him due to him being him. The man got no time for a good rest. He also got no experience in how he should take care of a kid.

Despite a good bag of problems on his back, like the fact that he is still considered a child himself because of his appearance, no job, no money, no place to stay, he somehow gets everything you need. It would probably cost him a lot of pride to sacrifice, people constantly saying «Aww, are you looking after your little sibling at such age? Where are your parents?» makes him want to say something snarky, but he would bite his tongue, since he doesn't want people to ask more questions. He is used to doing everything on his own, dealing with every trouble by no one but himself because it's how he got things done for ages. Not so surprising, Five is pretty good at it.

When he gets his job as a CIA agent, he does not get so much time to be with you, he's more busy even though he is «the one of the professional young agents», trying to investigate more and more. But I believe that he would absolutely think about you during his work, he would go nonchalantly in his mind «Should I buy them the cereal with that dumb colourful toy inside? No, that stuff has too much sugar for someone their age—», which is pretty ironic since Five has a little sweet tooth himself, knowing his famous toasts with peanut butter and marshmallows. He doesn't give you a chance to eat that stuff too much anyways, because he believes « You'll get to eat those when you grow older», while you probably pout and tug on his clothes, trying to make him share with you this tasty sweet thing with tons of deadly sugar! He will give up after a good 15 minutes of you jumping around, being noisy and whiney, so he would roll his eyes and give you like less than 1/3 of the toast, saying 'here is your half, happy now?🙄'. At least he managed to keep you quiet for some time, while he can focus on some little time of his rest.

Five wants you to be independent just like him. Mainly because he doesn't want to think about potential scenarios where you are without him, all defenseless and have no idea what to do. He will teach you everything, how to protect yourself, how to use the oven, who you should call immediately if something happens (he will probably write a phone number with a marker on your wrist, since kids tend to be forgetful and easily distracted and he does NOT take such a risk).

But Five would never push or press on you, he doesn't want to make another child assassin with childhood trauma, think of it as a grandfather taking you to the lake to teach you how to fish. He is constantly near your side, guiding gently but firmly, to you it's mostly about having fun but also learning new things. Five will praise you, give you some advice and will pet your head if you do something right. I do believe he is overprotective, that he doesn't want to even let you near anything dangerous, but he's also paranoid that if another apocalypse comes back, you should be able to survive.

When Five gets his powers back and reunites with his siblings, you will always be with him. Of course I can imagine him having a nanny to call so you would be away from all his family stuff and there is someone whom he can trust enough, but...he might trust himself more than anyone else (but also it's more interesting for the story than you being somewhere away from all the fun lol). When weird things start to happen, Five is looking for anyone even slightly suspicious. Why is this Elf Guy looking at him? Is that guy looking at YOU ? Stop looking at his kid!

Thankfully for him, you weren't around when Lila and Five stuck in that subway. But instead of spending years here, giving up on the idea of coming back home, that would never happen. Because come on, it's Five. He would never give up on coming back to his family and you, someone he also considers as a part of his family. Maybe they're not ideal, they might hate each other, sometimes even annoy him, but he would never allow himself at least a single minute of proper rest since he believes that his only priority is to come back to people he cares about.

The moment he finds the notes on how to come back, he will do it in an instant. When he sees his family safe - he is happy, even though he would hide his inner feelings. You're a little confused when he just hugs you tightly to his chest all of the sudden, sighing in relief the moment he realizes you're with him. Still the same little you, not a single change in your appearance. « Something happened?» you ask softly, carefully placing your arms around him. for some reason, it feels weird. he was never a person who could hug you just because he feels like it. the only time he might give you that it's only if you initiate it, needing comfort because you were afraid of storm or just woke up from the nightmare. « No, no, just stay like that for a little bit,» Five whispers, trying to calm his racing heart. he's thankful that this body at least can take all the stress he constantly experiences in his life. you are probably surprised and confused but he doesn't care about it now. he just came back to you after years of being apart. at least for him it was, for you — a few hours. Despite how unusual it makes you feel, you don't question it, you will give him all the comfort he deserves after whatever he went through.

A good happy ending we deserve would probably be Five (accidentally) taking you to this buffet full of his other versions. You're probably so shy and awkward to see all of them, so you stick closer to him, holding his hand. Five is a little more protective too, he doesn't trust his other selves as we know. I can imagine a little you being so scared to even make a single move, because the moment you look away, you might get lost! Is that your Five? Or is it the one who's near the other table? Why is that Five drunk? When did he find the apron?? But all of them are very nice to you. Five who works as a waiter would gladly help you to find your guardian and maybe he'll spoil you with food they serve here— Your Five is definitely not happy with how much attention you gain from.. other versions of him, but he knows that they all care the same of you.

[weird-an]

Billy doesn't remember how he got here. He stares at Harrington's big ass house, perfectly cut rose bushes and freshly mowed lawn.

It's nearly midnight. His arm throbs, each one of Neil's finger leaving a violet shadow behind. Why did he come here?

Harrington and him only met two times, shared hungry kisses and touches no one can ever know about. The vague sense of relief, of not being alone, made Billy ache a little less for that moment.

He's probably looking for that. To ease the pain, because Harrington is better than an advil.

Ridiculous. He should go, lick his wounds somewhere else. Harrington is a rich brat, once he sees the ugly truth behind Billy's smiles he's gonna toss him away.

The door opens. Billy halfway expects the stern looking man he has seen on a photo in the hallway to yell at him, to chase him away.

"Billy?"

But it's just Steve. Steve whose face turns from confused to something softer, something warm, something Billy wants to curl up in if he only was allowed to.

"What's goin' on?" Steve steps aside. Billy can't move. He doesn't belong here, because this place is golden and bright and shines on all his scars.

"Come in," Steve says.

Billy knows that he must have walked, because suddenly he's sitting on the couch and Steve puts a blanket around him.

"What are you doin'?" Billy asks. He's staring at some weird ass marble sculpture of an otter and it all doesn't make sense.

"You're hurt." Steve chews on his bottom lip, somehow unsure. They've already crossed a line tonight, Billy knows that. "How can I help?"

"I don't need help," Billy says and it's not even a lie. Neil gets angry, Billy hides, that's just how it goes. He wants to get away, but he's never going to make it. He knows it. Neil knows it, too.

Steve tilts his head. The otter stares at Billy.

"Hot chocolate," Steve declares.

"I'm not a kid," Billy snorts. He's a son, but he's not a child. Never allowed to be.

Steve ignores him. The otter seems to laugh at Billy when he listens Steve rummage in the kitchen.

There's a hot cup getting pushed into his hand. There's a gigantic pile of marshmallows on top of it. Billy looks from the chocolate to Steve, to the otter and back.

"Do you want more marshmallows?" Steve asks - he sounds nervous. He sips from his cup and Billy watches him lick away the stain of chocolate from his lips.

"It's fine," Billy says. The chocolate tastes rich and sweet and there's tears in his eyes, tears he has cried before when he was a kid and still had a mom.

"Thanks," he manages, hoping Steve doesn't see him cry like a little bitch - or so his dad would say.

"Anytime." It sounds like a promise.

Billy can't feel Neil's hand on his arm. He only feels warm.

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Reversing Victim and Offender

Okay, okay, hear me out.

Jack being a creepy manipulative yandere.

Yes, yes, I know, totally a revolutionary idea there to have a yandere horror game’s antagonist do something creepy and wrong. It’s just that I don’t often play with Jack losing himself to his more depraved impulses. Long time readers know I tend to be quite a marshmallow who prefers the fluffier side of things, as evidenced by many cuddly posts of my OTP and Sunshine in Hell being overall a softer version of the game, but sometimes it’s fun to watch the world burn and see the characters we love get to be a bit unhinged. As a treat.

Content Warning: this post is about Jack being a naughty manipulative yandere, attempted murder, influenced attempted self-murder, possession, mental manipulation, bloody violence, and a sprinkle of horny.

We know Jack can be a manipulative little devil when it comes to keeping his sunshine. We’ve seen him use his honeyed words to lure MC into his arms in the previous demos. We’ve seen the classic chilling concept art where he talks his rival(?) into doing the dirty work for him when he wants them gone.

Credit as always goes to Sauce for their awesome art, as well as a quick plug to the SnaccPop Patreon. Speaking of the Patreon, there’s a members only post on this very topic, an absolutely chilling audio drama of Jack using his state as a ghost(?) to his advantage.

It seems that Jack has the ability to possess people, and his modus operandi in eliminating his rivals seems to be tormenting them to the point of self-harm. Nick received a taste of that in the older demo, and in the now removed trailer.

But what if the person Jack directed his rival to hurt wasn’t themselves?

Jack is of the opinion that MC’s friends (and potential love interests) are inferior to him, as we’ve seen in his profile. MC doesn’t need them, as Jack says in this unsettling animation by Sauce, as well as many other development art. He proves this by giving MC whatever they want and need, being whatever they want and need him to be. No one else would do that for MC, so that proves that the only one they need is him.

To some degree, MC seems to believe that, at least during the early part of the game. As we can see in the “No” route, MC is dependent on Jack, panicking when they can no longer touch him.

The idea of losing Jack terrifies MC.

What happened to Jack clearly disturbed him, as we saw by his haunted look, but perhaps he found some comfort in the fact that MC was so upset by it. It might at least reassure him that they care, even if it might not be as much as he wants them to.

As I’ve theorized in previous posts, Jack and MC seem to be able to sense each other’s feelings, and it was implied that Jack can read their mind, as well as impress his thoughts into theirs. Perhaps he even felt their fear and desperation at that moment… as well as their need to keep him.

As scary as that moment was, Jack might have been able to get some pleasure out of feeling his sunshine’s need for him, don’t you think?

Jack won’t disappear as long as MC needs him, and he doesn’t want them to feel unhappy or hurt, but wouldn’t being with other people trying to steal them away from him hurt them more in the long run? MC doesn’t see what Jack does, how much of a threat those rivals other “friends” are.

After all… Ian was someone MC once held so dear, and he hurt them so, so badly. He’s trying to come back into their lives, and MC clearly still cares about him even if they’re trying to move on. How can Jack just stand idly by and let MC get hurt again when they don’t see just how bad Ian is for them?

MC might not be able to see how Ian and the other love interests could hurt them, but perhaps Jack could show his beloved sunshine just how cruel they can be.

Of course, Jack doesn’t want MC to get hurt. He would never! But, well, some lessons can be a bit harsher than others. Learning them can sting a bit and even make us upset, but as long as the lesson doesn’t do lasting harm and improves things for them, well, then it’s a good lesson!

Besides, this lesson will hurt Jack more than it hurts MC… in the most literal sense.

This classic audio drama of Jack’s villainous monologue makes me think that he’ll eventually find a way to become much more tangible in the real world. Sure, he could be saying all this while possessing his rival, but it seems more like a face-to-face confrontation. Naturally, for a face-to-face confrontation, Jack would need a face that’s actually visible to the person he’s taunting.

Perhaps the closer Jack gets to MC, the more they love him, the more real he becomes. It could be a reversal of what happened in the “No” route. If that were to happen, Jack could converse with other people directly… and perhaps convince them to leave MC to him.

If they just won’t go away, well… Jack could always push their buttons, upset them to the point that they have violent urges, only these feelings would be directed at him.

While MC is there to see that person unleash their bloody rage on Jack, of course.

As we’ve seen in earlier concept art, Jack didn’t feel pain when being stabbed, and perhaps that might still be true. But MC doesn’t need to know that when Jack says he’s okay and that it doesn’t hurt, it really doesn’t. All they see is Ian, Shaun, Nick, or whoever else suddenly snapping and attacking Jack with a knife for no apparent reason at all, leaving him bloody and wounded in front of them, trying to act brave for their sake like he did in the “no” route.

Jack doesn’t want MC to be unhappy, but perhaps he might get to enjoy a guilty thrill if they got upset for his sake, especially if he could feel them being so protective over him. Their worry for his injuries and outrage that he was attacked… You could say that it’s another way for his sunshine to show him just how much they love him. It might even make him feel a bit more secure, more real.

Jack could even prep his target beforehand via possession, tormenting that person until they’re close to snapping. In the now gone trailer, Shaun sounds unhinged, saying what he’s doing is so wrong… Shaun sounds like someone pushed to do things he never thought himself capable of doing, and likely it was Jack who did the pushing.

All Jack has to do is pull the trigger at the right moment, when MC is there to see their other friend snap. He could use a phrase or gesture that seems so innocent as a means to torment them until they can no longer help themselves when they hear it. He could’ve urged them to carry a knife with them at all times.

Hell, Jack could’ve outright possessed their arm with his powers, unseen by everyone, to make his target stab him in front of MC.

So, as far as MC is aware, Jack being his typical friendly self, when all of a sudden their other friend loses their mind and stabs Jack, likely while shouting something unhinged. It paints a vivid bloody picture of their friend as the antagonist, and Jack as the innocent victim.

Even if the rival snaps out of it right afterward, horrified at what they had done, if Jack covered his tracks well enough, their protests would be empty. It’d just look like empty excuses.

Or perhaps they hate Jack, really hate him, but they have no solid evidence why Jack is a bad person. They could wind up digging the hole even deeper if they doubled down on their act of violence.

It would be really hard to claim that Jack is the dangerous entity when they were the one who suddenly stabbed Jack without apparent provocation after all. It’d just make them look even more unstable and dangerous.

Sure, it’d be an awful thing for MC to see, but at least they’re not the one that got attacked. Jack bravely made sure that he was the only one whose blood was spilled. He might not even really feel pain like they would if he can handle being stabbed, rotted, and bleeding and keep going, as some teasers and concept art have shown.

Personally I think Jack can feel pain, but it’s nothing compared to the 40 years of hell, or the fear of losing his sunshine.

A little pain is worth it to keep his sunshine. Forever.

The idea of losing Jack bloodlessly and painlessly is scary enough for MC. Seeing someone attack him, maybe even outright trying to kill him would be far, far worse. MC was so desperate to keep Jack from disappearing, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to expect that they would rush to his defense to save his life.

This is especially true if their feelings for Jack are so strong that he’s able to physically manifest now.

The moment would be a scarring memory for MC, but sometimes lessons can be harsh when we learn them. MC would at least know how inferior their other friends are compared to Jack, how harmful and dangerous they are. Those people don’t deserve to be in MC’s life, and it’s in their best interests to never see those people again.

Jack would also get to enjoy the perverse pleasure of knowing just how much MC cares about them, how much they love him. They could even nurse him back to health after they chase away that inferior friend for good. He can be pampered, appreciated, and loved. MC will better understand just how important Jack is to them, how much they need him, and how terrible the person who tried to take them away truly is.

Really, it goes to show that MC should listen to Jack more when he says he’s not so sure about them spending time with a particular person, don’t you think?

Of course, how well this ploy goes depends on MC’s compassion. Given what we’ve seen so far of the story, MC does care about Jack, and most people will at least be upset and alarmed that someone was stabbed in front of them. An MC that has strong feelings for Jack and deeply loves him will no doubt be enraged.

This sort of messed up scenario reminded me of how the Bad End AU went so horribly wrong, only Shaun and Ian knew to target the tape there, rather than Jack directly. Alice was hesitant to do more than plead for the three to stop, not wanting any of them to be hurt, and the result was the tape getting destroyed and Jack banished.

The altercation between them was vague, but what if we went down another dark path? What if Jack pushed Ian and Shaun, but they never found out about the tape, and they focused on Jack himself despite his imposing size.

Once I made that comparison between this idea and the Bad End AU, I got inspired to write a quick first draft flash fic about a timeline where Jack gives in to his darker impulses.

The story of Sunshine in Hell is one of broken people helping each other heal and become better versions of themselves.

The Bad End AU is what happens when the wrong choices are made and things only get so much worse.

By the way, for those wondering, a third part of the Bad End AU is in the works. This isn’t it, but more like a different option taken during a critical moment that resulted in blood being spilled instead of bits of plastic and torn VHS tape ribbon.

 From wholesome to unhinged, my posts truly run the gambit of different sides to Sunny Day Jack. I hope you enjoy this little snippet of Jack getting worse instead of better, and taking perverse glee in bringing Alice along with him down a twisted path.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

…

Jack hated to see his sunshine upset. He ached for Alice every time she was in pain. There was nothing he wanted more than to see her smile, to bask in her warm, happy glow.

The last thing Jack wanted was to be the reason Alice was upset, and yet…

Somehow things had grown twisted. Jack crossed lines he knew that he shouldn’t, but somehow he always found ways to justify it. Somehow his fears of losing Alice were always stronger than the little voice in his head telling him that what he was doing wasn’t right.

Sadly, not everything in life could be solved with polite words and a smile.

Things had grown twisted until they spiraled out of control. Ian and Shaun dared to invade their home, their sanctuary. They wanted to take Alice away from him, to “save” her from his “wicked clutches” like Jack was just some cartoon bad guy.

All the things the two said about him were ridiculous, exaggerations! Jack feigned ignorance of their accusations, his confused act flawless. There was no reason for them to be afraid of him. He was just an innocent clown, someone who lived to take care of others, particularly his precious sunshine Alice.

Alice believed Jack had nothing to do with their accusations, but she didn’t chase them away. She listened, worried for them despite her faith in him. It warmed his heart that she believed in him, but the fact that she still listened meant that there was room for doubt to worm its way in.

Ian and Shaun could see that too.

“This… thing is dangerous, Alice,” Shaun said with a tremor in his voice. His eyes couldn’t remain still, bouncing between pleading with Alice and watching for when Jack pounced on them like a venomous cobra. “You need to get away from it right now.”

“You have to believe us!” Ian insisted, his voice cracking desperately. He kept one hand in his pocket, his shaking hand clutching his only form of defense tight. Would it even work on a ghost or whatever Jack was?

Could Jack even bleed?

Jack stood between the invaders and his sunshine. They had tried to take her with him, but he snatched up Alice before they could steal her away and tucked her safely behind his back. He kept one hand on her arm, his hold on her deceptively light, but as unshakable as iron. His expression was innocence itself, showing nothing but a mask of confused concern directed at the two terrified men before him. “Take it easy now. There’s no danger here. Let’s all take a deep breath and try to calm down.”

“Don’t give me that nice guy shit!” Shaun snapped as he glared daggers into Jack. His soothing words were grating in his ears, putting him even more on edge. “You’re more fake than a corporate account with a rainbow logo during pride!” His gaze switched back to Alice. “Alice, please, listen to us. This thing has been torturing us for months now.”

Alice felt a knot in the pit of her stomach. The way Shaun looked at her made her heart go out to him, but… how could it be true. “Torture-”

“Hey now, that’s a strong word to use there,” Jack said. His voice took on a more firm tone to it, but nothing more threatening than the gentle chastising he gave children on his show. “What makes you think I would hurt either of you?”

“Cut the bullshit!” Shaun snarled. “You know damn well you’ve been giving us nightmares for months now!”

“I gave you nightmares?” Jack asked. The confusion on his face was so convincing that Shaun and Ian might have questioned themselves if not for the countless sleepless nights filled with torment. “How could I do that?”

“With some sort of supernatural ghost zombie demon bullshit, I don’t know!” Shaun snapped.

“Alice, you can’t trust him,” Ian said, tightening his grip inside his pocket. Dark circles ringed his shaking eyes as he kept looking from Jack to the hand the creature had on Alice. “Why can’t you see that?”

How was Alice able to stand so close to that monster? Why was she standing behind it as if it would protect her? How could she not see that it was holding her hostage? How could she stand that thing’s cold, lifeless touch? Seeing its hand on her made Ian relieve those countless nights spent lost in a place that felt too real to be a dream, but too horrible to be reality.

The Jack before them now wasn’t exactly the same as the rotted, bloody corpse that haunted them night after night. That thing with mocking smiles that were too wide and wild, and strange eyes that had nothing behind them. This wasn’t the kind and caring boyfriend Alice talked about. This thing was a monster that only knew how to take and take and take. Its touch stole something from Ian every time it laid its hands on him, and left behind a coldness that went far beyond cold. It stole the very warmth from him until it was as if it never existed. It stripped Ian of his senses one at a time until there was nothing but its absence hissing at him like static.

And that voice. That voice mocked him even when the world went so silent that Ian couldn’t even hear his own screams. That thing was trying to sound compassionate now, but that was a lie. It twisted the truth until it was unrecognizable, but so believable. It sounded so calm and kind at the start of every nightmare, even as it told Ian so many, many terrible things, tore open old wounds and exposed all his flaws.

Ian was a sinner damned for hell. He didn’t deserve to be anywhere near someone as kind and gentle as Alice. That thing made it all too clear to him.

The thing countered his protests, even laughed, because they were so feeble. Ian was so selfish, so worthless.

That voice would then mock him, so superior, so much better than Ian in every way. He would never forget the sound of that voice, or that smile.

The smile Jack offered him now was supposed to be an encouraging one, but Ian knew that it was fake. He knew what the hand held before him in a placating gesture was a ruse to get just a little closer.

If Jack touched either of them it was all over. Now that they exposed the truth about it to Alice…

Who knew what it would take from Ian if it got its hands on him again?

“Let’s all calm down now,” Jack said soothingly. “Come on, take a deep breath with me.” He gestured to his chest as he inhaled, which only served to remind Ian and Shaun of just how much bigger he was than all of them.

Ian jerked at Jack’s sudden movement, his breath hitching as that gloved hand drifted close to him.

“There now,” Jack said encouragingly. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The words struck harder than any blow.

There now. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

It was such an innocent phrase, something that would have been encouraging if Shaun and Ian hadn’t heard it in countless nightmares, spoken in mocking tones or breathless whispers, with fake reassurance or a true perverse glee. The monster praised them when they ran from the illusion of Alice, when they admitted that they were flawed and worthless, when they surrendered to his taunts…

When they accepted the knife it pressed into their hands to carve a smile in their throats to match its own.

Shaun flinched back while Ian tensed, his eyes wide and wild as Jack slowly reached out for him with an open palm and a smile. It was such a deceptively innocent gesture…

Instinct took over. A flash of silver and a cry broke the air as Ian used the knife he had hidden away in his pocket all this time to take back what Jack had stolen away from him.

Time slowed down as blood sprayed from the gouge carved from Jack’s hand to his forearm. He cried out in pain as he reeled back, then collapsed to the floor.

Shaun froze at the attack, staring at the bloody knife and wound it left behind in shock. It was as if he was watching a scene from one of his movies unfold before him, not real in the slightest, even though some of the blood splattered onto his face and clothes.

Ian held the knife in both hands tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. The blade shook in his too tight grip, then the rest of him soon followed as it sunk in what he had just done.

This was just another dream… right? Ian didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he just couldn’t let Jack touch him, not again. Not in reality. Not when he couldn’t wake up. He couldn’t let Jack take everything from him.

Ian couldn’t let Jack hurt him again.

Everything had happened so fast. Alice didn’t know what to make of it when Ian and Shaun practically forced their way into her apartment, throwing out wild accusations. They were jittery and on edge, hurling out vitriol towards Jack and pleas to her before she could sort out the accusations they made. They grabbed at her without warning, yanking hard while their fingers dug into her arms hard enough to bruise. It was only thanks to Jack acting quickly to separate them that she hadn’t been dragged outside.

They scared her. Alice worried for them, but their actions weren’t normal. The look in their eyes was terrifying. Ian and Shaun had been acting cagey for weeks now, avoiding her and not responding to her texts. She never saw this coming.

Jack reassured her with his gentle touch and soothing words. Alice could see that he was alarmed by their behavior as well, but he did his best to keep calm, to protect her when her friends were acting so strangely.

There was no way Jack was this monster they described. He was the kindest, gentlest soul Alice had ever known. He chased away her nightmares, comforted her when she needed it, and was there for her when she was left all alone.

Jack loved her more than anyone else in the world.

Alice barely had time to wonder about their claims when Ian struck without warning. When Jack screamed, her blood turned to ice. Red filled her vision.

There was so much blood.

“Jack!”

Alice moved before she could really register what was happening, her scream sounding far away as her heartbeat pounded hard in her ears. She threw herself between Jack and his attacker, falling to her knees as used her body as a shield. She clung to him, her best friend, her beloved, heedless of the blood soaking into her clothes, then turned her gaze to the monster that had dared to hurt the one she loved.

The ice in that gaze froze Ian, and the knife fell from his limp fingers. Suddenly he was all too aware of what he had done, the blood on his hands. He stared at them, at the sin he had committed, shaking and red, until he collapsed into a pool of tears.

“How could you?” Alice hissed, forcing the words out through her constricted throat. “How could you!?”

The world started to move again. Ian tried to say something, perhaps some form of protest or apology, but the words were half-formed and drowned in his tears. Shaun stared between the bloodstained knife and Jack, who lay curled against Alice, quietly whimpering while bleeding all over the carpet.

Shaun couldn’t reconcile the scene before him of the wounded man, weak and in pain, against the monster from his dreams that smiled through any attack he made. No matter how many times he stabbed Jack in the dream, the undead creature would just mock him, unfazed even as its blood was spilled.

Was this really the same monster that haunted them for months?

It was this dissonance that made Ian truly aware of the sin he had committed. He couldn’t handle it. He fled.

“Get out!” Alice snapped, bringing Shaun’s attention back from her and away from the fleeing Ian. “Get the fuck out of here!”

Shaun staggered a step back. “A-Alice, I-”

“Get the fuck out!” Alice shrieked. “I never want to see either of you ever again! If you ever come near me or Jack again, I’ll fucking shoot you!”

Shaun took a few more steps, his eyes trailing down to the blood that had been spilled. It still didn’t look real to him, but Alice’s screams were real. The hatred she had in her eyes directed entirely at him was real. It was far more real than any of his nightmares.

It was too much for Shaun, and he too left behind the scene of this macabre show he had taken part in.

Ahhh…

Jack had to use every ounce of his willpower to suppress his smile and keep his true feelings hidden from his sunshine. The pleasure he felt in that moment was exquisite, a shiver of euphoria that was so sinfully delicious it was practically erotic. Fear, shock, and anger burst through him like fireworks, but undercutting all of those feelings was the love Alice had for him. Those feelings of her burned fierce and bright, chasing away all the cold in the world. Even her hatred, directed at someone else, was beautiful, because it was for his sake.

How could Jack not feel pleasure when Alice’s love for him overflowed until it flooded his heart in a torrent of passion?

All that fear, worry, and rage was in defense of him. Only him. Only Jack had her love now. Whatever care Alice felt for Shaun and Ian was dead, its throat slit with a single slice of a knife.

It made all the nights spent away from his sunshine while she slept worth it. All those months of training those two obstacles had paid off beautifully. Jack finally exposed the true nature of those inferior other “friends” of hers. He knew that with just a little encouragement, they would finally show his precious sunshine just how worthless and filthy they truly were.

With them gone, her anger cooled, but didn’t disappear completely. It still burned inside of Alice, fierce and ready to protect him again at a moment’s notice. Her thoughts were all for him now, only him. She fussed over his wound, letting out concerned whimpers as she cradled him close while using her own clothes to staunch the blood flow.

Jack hated to see his sunshine so upset. He wanted to reassure her that he was fine, but he had to be careful about it. The episode he had written for them wasn’t quite finished yet.

“It… it’s okay… sunshine,” Jack said between heavy pants. He wore a weak smile that held none of his true happiness in it. “I-it doesn’t hurt.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it, but the pain didn’t matter to Jack. No pain compared to the thought of losing Alice. This little scratch was nothing compared to what he gained in return.

The love Jack felt from her, the pleasure that love gave him was so much better. It was a drug that left him feeling weak and dizzy, almost overwhelmed by the euphoria to the point he became partially erect. Alice’s love for him was so fierce that it was practically all that he could feel. Compared to that, the gouge in his arm was little more than a paper cut.

Those warm hands of hers touched him so delicately. Alice fussed over him, cried over him, her heart breaking for him. It was all for him, only for him. He was her world, and he reveled in it. She was the sun that would shine her light for no one else but him now.

Jack never wanted anything to make his sunshine unhappy, but how could he not enjoy himself? How could he not find pleasure even in the darker moments of anger and sadness that overtook her when it was for his sake? The way she screamed his name, the way she held him so close, the fierce way she defended him, worried for him… how could he not adore every second of it?

There was no stronger proof of the love Alice felt for Jack than this.

[lovebugism]

oh my god,,,, gurl!!!! THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT fic is sooo good 😫 my heart literally breaks every time I read this story. Thank you for blessing us with this masterpiece <3

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | square one

summary: eddie makes a confession that's been weighing heavy on his heart. you realize that your future with him is haunted by ghosts from your past. pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 16.3k warnings: hopper, steve, and robin being the reader defense squad, hints at reader's previously poor mental health, mentions of abusive and toxic relationships, a banshees of inisherin quote, b*lly h*rgrove because he needs a warning. (pretend any typos don't exist pls and thank u!) a/n: guess who's back, back again? ✨✨ i'd apologize for disappearing for a month, but then there'd be apologies in all my notes, so just know that i'm sorry every time i disappear unexpectedly, okay? 🥲 thanks for being so patient! please enjoy this long-awaited installment of tcar ily <3

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

Eddie’s got a 1986 Van Halen tape in his boombox and a baby pink heart stitched into the fabric of his shirt. He’s the least metal he’s ever been, but he couldn’t be happier.

You keep your promise to him to patch up his torn Hellfire tee. If anything, you use the absentminded assurance as your excuse to see him again. The night you shared before, all but baring your scarred souls underneath glittering stars and streams of pale moonlight, hadn’t satiated your hunger for him. Eddie left you craving in a way you weren’t used to before — a yearning to be close to him that went beyond the boundaries of physical intimacy.

It was a simple sort of longing. It was a homesickness. A sense of nostalgia for a love you’d never felt before.

You wish you could wear Eddie’s adoration for you like a blanket, wrap yourself in the hand-stitched quilt of many colors and bundle it tighter around your shoulders when the cold comes. You want his softness to hold you in a way you’ve never been able to hold yourself.

You feel swaddled in it, succumbed and cloaked and at peace in all his tenderness. You’ve never been so at ease, so blissfully comforted by the presence of another human being. And Eddie feels all of that, every ounce of warmth you feel, because it pours out of you like rays of sunshine and bathes him in shades of gold.

He didn’t think you could get any softer than you had been that night at Skull Rock, until you were nestled in his unmade bed the next morning. You curled your legs underneath you as you weaved the needle and thread through the tear in his t-shirt, eyes squinted and tongue poking out the side of your mouth in an astute concentration. 

All of the sudden, you were marshmallow fluff and honey on toast — made of all things sickly sweet that made his stomach feel suddenly full. 

You finish mending the rip in record time and beam when he wears the heart-shaped stitching with pride. The rest of the day thereafter was spent in the tiny confines of his one hundred square-inch bedroom. From there, the both of you came to the silent understanding that you didn't want to spend another day apart.

The weekend had given you a limited sort of freedom, allowed you to pretend that you lived in a world with no responsibilities or anything other than Eddie Eddie Eddie, but adulthood made you no such promises. He had a side job to do to keep himself afloat, and you had a cat that thought it was the end of the world anytime you were gone for longer than a night. Both of those things together meant that the eve of parting was ultimately inevitable.

Every second you spent away from Eddie felt like you were grieving.

You mourned for him in the darkness of your apartment and tried to pretend you weren’t half a person in the cat food aisle at Melvald’s.

You tried to lessen the unbearable distance with phone calls, though it didn’t come nearly as close as feeling his fingers thrumming imaginary beats on your thigh or his heartbeat thudding against your ear. 

But his voice filled the emptiness of your one-bedroom apartment and the Eddie Munson shaped hole he’d left just behind your ribcage, and that was good enough for you.

When you weren’t with him, you were roaming around your apartment like some kind of ghost, with the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder and the rotary clutched in your free hand. 

You cook yourself dinner with him ranting about his day in your ear. You hold the receiver closer to Bowie and force him to hear her purr when she’s being exceptionally cute. He falls asleep some hours later to the sound of your soft snores, and you wake up the next morning to the sounds of his.

It was pathetic, truly.

You’d be gagging at how sweet it was if it wasn’t happening to you.

But it was.

Every ounce of this sticky sweet goodness was yours, and it tasted just like honey on your tongue. 

It was the honeymoon stage times a thousand, all rose-colored and reflecting light — your own personal utopia. It brought with it a heavenly sort of refuge, a bubble of peace you never wanted to pierce.

Eddie basks in the serenity of it all when he finally has you with him again. You’re in his lap, on his lips, and all over him, but it still isn’t quite close enough. He doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied until you’ve successfully melted with him and your limbs have entwined with his like tree roots, destined to remain that way for the next couple of centuries or so.

And it’s weird because he could hardly handle living in such a tiny trailer with Wayne, let alone stomach more than a couple hours with the guys from Hellfire all in one place. But you? You entered his life all at once and now he can’t remember what it was like without you.

He doesn’t particularly want to, if he’s being real honest.

It’s why he’s always less enthused about letting you leave when you’ve both got responsibilities dragging you apart. He begs you to stay with him a few hours more, pleads for you to stick around while he makes a quick deal or an emergency pick-up when Dustin Henderson calls and says he needs a ride. 

And you promise you’ll wait on him there, because he makes it virtually impossible to say no to his rosy pouted lips and chocolate syrup puppy dog eyes.

That’s when you run into Wayne for the first time, when Eddie’s out and you’re making breakfast for when he comes back.

French toast and scrambled eggs sizzle on the stove and warm the kitchen with all its cinnamon confections. It makes the man’s face screw up in confusion when he steps inside the trailer because he’s never known Eddie to cook a day in his life. And then his eyes find you — a young, pretty girl all alone in his kitchen with his nephew’s van gone from the drive.

“…Who the hell are you?” he wonders gruffly and pops a cigarette between his lips, totally unbothered.

He’s got no reason to be intimidated by the stranger in his trailer. He’s more confused than anything else, and he’s got this contorted look on his face like he’s blaming the exhaustion from the graveyard shift for his vision of you.

“Oh— my god,” you mumble through the mouthful of whipped cream you’d squeezed into your mouth moments prior. You fight to swallow it all down. “Uh. Hi. I’m, um… I’m Eddie’s... girlfriend?”

It sounds like you’re lying. 

In some ways, it feels like you are. 

You’ve been spending more time in his trailer than in your own home, but it’s not like either of you has motioned to make anything official just yet.

He eyes you with a tired and heavy gaze, eyes as dark and as infinite as Eddie’s. The man gives you a once-over and then chuckles lowly to himself as he tosses his corduroy jacket onto the back of the recliner and his tin lunchbox to the coffee table.

You shift awkwardly on the other side of the room. “…What is it?”

“When Eddie said he was talkin’ to a pretty girl on the phone every night, I thought he was lyin’,” he admits through hearty chuckles. 

It makes you laugh too. 

There’s little talking after the fact, besides you offering him some of the breakfast on the stove and him joking that you should come around more often.

You recount the story to Eddie when he returns, utterly mortified about the whole thing. You’re even more embarrassed when the boy finds amusement in your horror and starts to chuckle to himself — not exactly at you, but not with you either.

He laughs louder when you swat at him for it. You clamber on top of him, mattress squeaking mattress under your weight, as you demand him to stop through giggles of your own.

Somewhere down the line, both of you stop caring. 

Neither of you is quite sure where the conversation stopped and ended, only that when you started kissing, you couldn’t stop. 

They weren’t innocent little pecks, but they weren’t sloppy and full of tongue either. You press your lips together with the intent of being as close as you can to the other, like you haven’t spent every second you could together.

Neither of you will be satisfied until you’ve swallowed each other whole.

And you, you’ve got this ache for him. A swirling of want that’s constantly rippling in your belly for this boy. He’s just not usually under you when it’s happening — and now that he is, the crackling embers have burst into white and blue flames behind your sternum.

Your lips click each time you part, a lewd noise you never want to stop hearing. The sound of it gives you goosebumps, like a good song you’ve just heard on the radio. You wonder if Eddie can feel them as his hands start to creep up beneath your shirt and find purchase along your waist. 

You open his mouth with your own and sneak your tongue inside just as you roll your hips over his lap.

It’s the most forthcoming either of you had been in your three-day stint of nonstop talking. Even when you were over at the trailer, totally alone and pressed underneath him, it was otherwise completely innocent. You just make out like a couple of teenagers until one of you wants to make a food run or offers to roll a joint. 

And you like that. You like that he doesn’t expect anything from you, but it does get a little agonizing when you’ve tried every attempt to give yourself to him and he just won’t take it.

Like usual, Eddie tenses when he feels you grinding on top of him — partly because he feels a tingle at the base of his spine when he gets instantly half-hard, but mostly because he knows there’s nothing he can do about it.

He keeps preaching to himself it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time — but he’s got no idea when it’ll ever be the right time, if it’ll ever be the right time, or if he’ll know it when it comes.

Because he’s had you to himself for days now — no Wayne, no responsibilities, no pressure — with his tongue rutting against yours and your hands fidgeting with the metal buttons of his jeans, and it still doesn’t feel good enough. Eddie doesn’t feel good enough.

He’s not sure if he ever will.

And it’s not you. God, it’s the farthest thing from you. As far as Eddie’s concerned, he’s never had more fun with anyone else. He’s never laughed harder with anyone else. He’s never felt as comfortable with anyone as he’s starting to feel around you. So he’s not entirely sure why he finds the rest of it so hard. 

Eddie wants you so bad that the ache of all his yearning is palpable. It’s like the weight of it is what’s keeping him from you — unstoppable force, immovable object, blah, blah, blah. 

Either way, it leaves him entirely unable to take things further with you, however much he wants to. There’s something in his way and it’s him. 

Your heartache is his own when he has to pull away from you.

“You okay?” you ask him with wide eyes and swollen lips, always so concerned for him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he’s quick to assure you. He’s still breathless when he fidgets beneath you, trying to prop himself up on his headboard without rubbing his half-hard cock against your thigh.

When he succeeds, he musters a smile that shakes at the edges. “It’s just… you know, not everything… It doesn’t have to be about sex, you know?”

He makes himself as soft as possible for you when he says this. He gets rid of all the usual teasing lilts that tend to lurk on his tongue as the words spill from his mouth. The last thing he wants to do is hurt your feelings or, in some roundabout way, make you think you’re the problem. 

He just wants you to know that that isn’t why he’s been wanting to spend so much time with you. There was never an ulterior motive with him other than all the adoration he holds in his hands and his mouth for you.

The strike of hurt that flashes across your face is obvious to only Eddie, who’s spent enough time mapping out your features to know what twitches are ones of discontent. The slight frown that dips between your brows when they scrunch together for half a second comes like a stroke of lightning. It’s a brief flash of purple in the sky that leaves so quickly that it makes you wonder if it was ever there at all.

You fidget on his lap, not resting as comfortably upon him as you had been just moments before. “Oh…” you murmur through soft, jutted-out lips. “Sorry. I, I didn’t—”

“No, it’s not— that’s not what I—” he tries to assure over your insecure stammers, but succeeds only in tripping over himself in return. He cuts himself off with a breathy laugh, shaking his head while his fingers fidget on your hips. “That’s just not what this is about for me, you know? I just… I wanna spend time with you.”

It’s easily the softest thing he’s ever said to you — to anybody, for the matter — and the marshmallow sweetness of it all wraps around you like wisps of pink cotton candy.

Your apprehensiveness twists into something lighter, a pair of twinkling eyes and a bashful smile.

“Oh,” you hum again, obviously more pleased than before. “That’s nice…”

“No one’s ever said that to you before, have they?” Eddie asks you.

He tries to muster a crooked smirk as the words leave his mouth, but he’s got a feeling he already knows the answer. Hearing you affirm his suspicions will do nothing more than make him angry at all the assholes that had you before him, at everyone who taught you that you were good for sex and hardly a thing else. 

It makes him wish that he’d gotten to know you sooner. Maybe then you’d understand that he’d be happy just holding you like this and never doing anything more.

You don’t answer him verbally, just shake your head with your lips pursed softly to the side. You look more innocent than anything he’s ever seen before, even with your lipstick smeared on your chin. 

He’s still not quite sure how someone could be so reckless with such a fragile thing — to watch you break and not spend the rest of time grieving to know that you’ll never be quite the same again. 

There’s a primal instinct that swims in him then, an urge to keep you in his arms and locked in the confines of his trailer forever and ever. He wants to keep the wolves of Hawkins, Indiana from ever getting a whiff of you again. It’d be more than they deserved, anyway.

“God, you have got to get better boyfriends, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you with a playful lilt in his voice despite the anger simmering in his belly.

“Isn’t that what you are?” you giggle.

His world stops.

“Huh?”

You tense at his tenseness. Only when he’s gaping at you does the weight of your words dawn on you. “…Huh?”

The awkward moment goes as quickly as it arrives, chased out by the fit of laughter the two of you are quickly thrown into. Your entwining chuckles rise like smoke in his tiny bedroom and then settle back over you like a fuzzy blanket.

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, babe?” Eddie teases.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Babe.”

“Oh, right, of course not. That would be way too crazy considering we’ve spent, like, every day together and have made each other come… what is it now? Twice?”

“Three times for me,” you correct with you a smile. “You need to catch up, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Another time?” he offers with a scrunched nose.

“Whenever you want.”

Eddie is grateful for your lack of urgency, even more so for the kiss you press to the tip of his nose. 

You peck him on the lips after — once, twice, and then a thiiird, drawn out time — before moving on to his chin and jaw and neck. Whatever part of him you can reach (which is just about everywhere, considering the vantage point you’ve got sitting on his lap), you sprinkle a kiss to it.

It’s an innocent sort of affection, the kind that makes him wonder how it ever came to be in the first place. What evolutionary measures led to this, to you pressing your lips to his skin to show how much you care about him? Eddie doesn’t really want to know the answer, he’s just grateful that it happened in the first place.

You’re so good at it, loving on him. You’re always so kind and so gentle in your way and it makes him feel guilty. There’s a lingering feeling of undeservedness that settles something heavy at the base of his stomach. How could he ever expect you to be so open with him when he hasn’t done the same for you?

A heavy sigh rattles in his deflating chest. 

“I gotta tell you something, sweetheart,” he cautions when your lips smack against the thrumming pulse below the left side of his jaw. “Something you’re not gonna like…”

A billion things run through your head all at once. When you part from him, he can see the rollercoaster of emotions each one of them puts you through.

Your first instinct is that he’s got some kind of partner he’s kept hidden from you until now. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gone steady with a guy who’s then told you about some other girlfriend he had — or, god forbid, a wife. 

But then you realize that you surely would’ve had some sort of inkling if that were the case. There’s no way Eddie would’ve been able to spend every second of his day with you — and then another several hours on the phone when you had to leave — without someone else coming along to burst your bubble. 

And so far, there haven’t been any angry wives, just the occasionally confused Uncle Wayne.

Then you start thinking he’s about to tell you he wants an open relationship. The you’re great, but I’m just not ready to settle down yet spiel that you’ve heard a thousand times before. Usually when people say that, they mean that they just don’t want to settle down with you.

You’ll become some douchebag’s fuck toy for a month or more until the girl next door comes around. He gets her knocked up in record time, his family forces him to marry her, and they begin their cushy lives together in the center of some cul-de-sac — really settle down, as it were.

You’re not sure if you could take that from Eddie. You could grin and bear if it you had to, take whatever attention he’s willing to give you because who cares if he’s giving it to someone else on the side? You’re just not sure how long you’d last like that.

And then you start to worry that he’s just going to break up with you entirely — it’s not you, it’s blah, I’ll always care about blah, please don’t tell anyone about how we blah-ed. That whole talk. 

All the rest of your worries stop mattering so much because you’ve only just called him your boyfriend. And here he goes, about to end it all before it can really even start. That’d be just your luck, you figure.

“Did I do something wrong?” you caution after a few moments of heavy silence.

Eddie’s bleeding heart wrenches at your words, at how sad they sound spilling from your mouth, and how you immediately think that it’s got something to do with you. 

He shakes his head feverishly in response. “No. No, it’s not you. You’re… you’re perfect.”

“Okay…” you concede quietly, voice trembling with a lingering disbelief.

“I just… I haven’t been totally honest with you, you know?” the boy admits before his glimmering chocolate eyes fly open and he corrects himself quickly. “And I haven’t lied to you or anything. Not— Not exactly. I just… I wanna be honest with you… As your boyfriend and all.”

You can tell by the sudden weight in his voice that he’s serious. But the fine coat of glowing rose that splotches Eddie’s cheeks after calling himself your boyfriend for the first time makes you melt. 

You smile to yourself and start to trace the heart you’d stitched into his t-shirt with your finger.

“Yeah. I mean, we are about to spend our two minutes anniversary together and everything.”

“Exactly,” the boy huffs out a laugh. It lacks its usual jest, though, because of the ice-cold anxiety that drenches him from head to toe and makes his hands and feet go numb.

His fingers tremble where the rest on your waist, trying and failing to find a comfortable position there because, right about now, Eddie feels the most awkward he’s ever felt.

“I just want you to know that I… I’ve never done this before,” he confesses quietly and with his eyes squeezed shut. He prays that he doesn’t have to be any less vague than that.

Your face twists in confusion — your brows furrow and your nose twitches and your head tilts to the side like a puppy. And then you’re laughing, a soft little thing of a giggle that normally makes his heart sing, though now he can only feel it breaking.

“What…?” he tries to scoff out his own chuckle. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’ve already told me that, dummy. That you’ve never felt this way before…” you answer, reciting his own words back to him. You haven’t yet forgotten how he’d looked at you as you said them, pale skin made silk under the moonlight while he sparkled beneath the beams of it and his love for you. 

“No, it’s… it’s more than that,” he corrects. “I’ve never even had a girlfriend before you. Or anything really.”

You still don’t seem to understand. You just look on at him with uncertainty. 

A quiet “okay?” tumbles from your mouth entwined with a nervous giggle, because you don’t understand what’s got him so somber. He’s never dated anyone, you’ve fucked half of Hawkins — these are just facts that went unsaid before now. 

And maybe it’s because you’ve never been with a virgin before, but the thought that Eddie might be one hasn’t seemed to cross your mind at all. 

It’s that exact thought that scares him. 

Because if it hasn’t already, maybe it’s because you’re avoiding it altogether. And why would he ever be the exception?

He opts to bite the bullet and hopes that his heart doesn’t get broken after.

“I’m a virgin. Okay? I’m a complete, total, proper adult virgin,” he blurts with a brazenness he’d previously lacked when it came to all this. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now, but I didn’t, because I liked you and I was scared. So if you wanna yell at me or if you wanna break up with me before our five-minute anniversary, I totally get it, but I should probably let you know that it’ll rip my little virgin heart to shreds, so…”

Eddie ends his nervous ramble with a trembling, lopsided smile that does little to ease the leaden tension he’s just manufactured in the four walls of his bedroom.

He can’t seem to gauge your reaction after the fact, which is strange because he always knows what you’re thinking. 

He knows when you’re laughing with him and not at him. You scrunch your nose and giggle when he tells you a funny joke, then tilt your head back and cackle when he trips over the punchline. 

He knows the exact moment when something’s started to bother you — when you get real quiet in your bubble of reserved stillness and your eyes start to glaze over. To anyone else, it might just look like a person who’s keeping to themselves. Eddie’s starting to learn that usually means trouble when it comes to you.

He knows the difference between your gentle sort of sadness and when you’re damn near inconsolable. When you cried at the end of Stand By Me, you smiled at him with a glassy tear-filled gaze, then rolled your eyes when he tried to comfort you. The tears only spilled over when you laughed because Eddie pretended you’d hurt him when you’d shoved him away. 

But when you’re really upset about something, you don’t show him at all — you fight to keep it all to yourself until you’ve squished the problem into a tiny enough ball that you can forget about all of it.

This is something different.

There’s too much crossing your mind all at once for him to get a good read of you.

You just gape at him, like you’re trying to figure out if he’s joking or not, and then fighting to understand what it means when you realize he’s being serious. 

And just when you’ve started to wrap your head around it all, when your brain remembers how to make words again and you realize you haven’t said anything in several agonizing seconds, a foreign voice sounds from down the hallway.

Not foreign in that it was unfamiliar exactly, just foreign in that you and Eddie had spent so much time alone that you were starting to forget that there was an entire world outside of yourselves. A great big world, filled with a great many people, some of whom were your friends who tended to get pretty worried about you.

“Edward Wayne— why the hell is the Chief in my driveway?” his uncle curses from the living room, sounding like he’s speaking through a cigarette in his mouth.

Eddie himself is immediately freaking the fuck out because he figures he must’ve gotten tipped off again. He tries to calculate the quickest way to get you off of him and to all of his cubby holes full of miscellaneous drugs so he can flush them down the toilet before Jim Hopper busts the door down.

And even though you’re not the drug dealer who’s had cops on their ass since they were fifteen in this equation, you look a whole lot more terrified than Eddie does.

Your eyes go wide and the whites of them swim with terror as you launch yourself off of his lap. You don’t spare another glance back at him, not even when you nearly trip over yourself when you shove your sneakers on your feet and shuffle out of the room. He’s forced to follow behind you like a confused puppy as you bound through the trailer at lightning speed. 

The haste of your movements startles even Wayne, who halts mid-puff of his cig when you’re in and out of the living room before he can blink. The opening squeak of the screen door and metal slamming against metal is the only thing that punctuates your exit.

“Would it kill you to answer your damn phone every once in a while?” the powerful timbre of Jim Hopper’s angry voice, of which only the man himself could pull off, is muffled until Eddie cautiously slinks onto the porch behind you. 

He finds the chief standing beside the Cruiser he’s parked sideways. The door of it is still flung open. A distant beeping sounds from the ignition. 

He’s still got on the pressed khakis of his uniform — complete with the golden badge pinned to his chest, darkened sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, and flat-brimmed hat on his head. Even with the majority of his face covered, it does little to hide the anger that radiates off of him like a hot stove eye.

You remain on the porch, shifting your weight on your feet at the top of the steps. “Okay, Hopper, just listen to me for a second—”

“Three days!” he shouts over you, not deterred by your composed nature. “I have been calling you… for three days! Seventy-two hours. No answer!”

Eddie decides to speak up from behind you despite his better judgment. “Yeah, uh, that was kinda my fault,” he confesses with an awkward laugh. “Wouldn’t let her hang up the phone—”

“I’ll deal with you in a second,” Jim interjects firmly and without thinking. He goes back to berating you with an admirable finesse. “Buckley wanted my head on a pike when I wouldn’t file a missing person’s report in the first twenty-four hours, but seventy-two? She was gonna kill me!”

Rather than argue with him, like every fiber of your being so desperately wants to, you make the difficult choice to concede with a heavy sigh. Because you don’t doubt that Robin was on his ass the second she realized you weren’t answering your phone or at your apartment when she and Steve dropped by.

She did tend to be on the overprotective side, after all, which obviously paired well with her melodramatic disposition.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve just been… busy.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the one before,” the man answers bitterly.

“It’s different, Hopper!”

“I’ve heard the one before, too!”

Eddie can only assume that the both of you are communicating telepathically, what with the way your synchronized glares seem to say a thousand words (probably every curse imaginable, if he had to guess) without your mouths ever moving once. 

He stands on the outskirts of it all, feeling a bit stuck in the thorniness of such a tense silence, like any slight movement might cut him.

Jim moves slowly, akin to a creeping snake, as his hands raise to remove the glasses from his face. Their lack reveals the ice-cold glare that was previously hiding beneath them.

“Get in the car—” 

“—No,” you reject just as the direction leaves his mouth because you knew it was coming.

Jim inhales sharply and smacks his lips against his teeth, like a father whose child is most ardently testing his patience. He plants his work boot in the gravel and his hand on his hips. His steel gaze goes far off for a moment before flitting back to you again.

“…Get in the car or I put you in handcuffs.”

Your breath hitches at the threat. You squint over at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Jim smiles at you, but it’s more threatening than anything else. “We both know that I would.”

Eddie’s eyes flit between the both of you. He can tell that Hopper’s serious and that you’re trying to decide whether or not to call his bluff, with your arms crossed defensively over your chest and lips pursed in a tight line.

You ultimately decide not to. Because Hopper has, in fact, done that before. And even though the circumstances are very, very different, you wouldn’t put it past him to do it again. So you all but stomp your foot like a protesting child and spin on your heel to storm back inside the trailer.

Eddie’s nervous gaze flits between your disappearing form and the storm cloud of a police chief standing in his driveway. When their eyes lock, he realizes he should probably say something. He cocks his thumb over his shoulder and stammers, “I should— I should probably…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He catches the front door before it shuts and slithers through the crack of it to follow in behind you.

“Wait, was he— was he being serious about that?” Eddie wonders once you’re back in his bedroom.

It feels a lot less cozy than it did minutes before, less like the bubble of refuge that you thought nobody could pierce and more like a lonely space that feels entirely too empty. You pluck your things scattered around his room, and it starts to feel less and less like home with parts of you gone from it.

“I don’t know,” you answer within a sigh as you collect your cardigan from the back of his desk chair and shrug the thing back over your shoulders again.

“But it’s happened before?”

“Yeah. Once. When I was…” you confess quietly, then trail off. You get your bag from his nightstand and haphazardly shove your scrunchie, sunglasses, and chapstick into the bottom of it. “…When I was in a bad way— it doesn’t matter now.”

Eddie so desperately wants to pry.

He’d wanted to make a joke before, about the handcuffs — something less than tasteful about them and you and Hopper and some good ol’ freaky deaky that you'd scold him for after. But he decides not to now because you sound so strangely solemn about the whole thing, as though it was a story you buried deep with the intent of never bringing it up again.

“You don’t have to go with him if you don’t want to, you know that, right?”

“Of course, I do,” you scoff at his worries, not nearly as threatened by Jim as the rest of Hawkins. You move to stand in front of him in the center of his room and meet his furrowed brows with a soft grin. “He’s not gonna do anything, he’s just pissed. He’ll berate me on the drive back to my apartment and then it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

That seems to please Eddie well enough, though he’s still a bit disheartened at your leaving.

“I guess we couldn’t keep spending time together like this, huh?” he teases lightly, like the realization of it doesn’t make his chest ache. “Sorta forgot about the rest of the world… whatever that is.”

“It was fun while it lasted,” you tell him with a shrug and a whimsical sigh.

“Wait for me, will ya?” he jokes, if only to make you laugh and to feel like he’s stuck in some sickly sweet ending of a romcom for a couple moments more. 

You roll your eyes at his dramatics but let him wrap you in his arms anyway. His hands find purchase on your elbows, thumbs rubbing soothingly along the outsides of them. “How about a kiss, then?” he offers when the urge to feel you because too great to bear. “For our ten-minute anniversary and all?”

“You never have to ask me, Eds,” you assure with a laugh. You rise to the tips of your toes and he meets you halfway. 

Home is in your mouth. It’s warm and cozy and safe there. It’s easily the most familiar place he’s ever known, with your bottom lip nestled between his own. He feels homesick when you part from him. 

“You’re not mad at me?” he wonders quietly, feeling a bit like a cowering child from where he stands in front ahead of you — eased only when you shake your head almost immediately in response.

“No. I couldn’t be even if I wanted to, I think.”

“Okay. That’s… That’s good.”

“We can talk about it later, if you want. After I get lurch off my ass.”

He tries not to smile too wide, but it’s hard not to beam every time he looks at you. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll… I’ll see you around, I guess?” he stumbles over himself, having forgotten how to say goodbye to you. 

It’s equally as hard for you too, it seems, because you nod at him and turn to leave and then realize once you’re halfway down the hallway that you might not survive if you don’t kiss him again. 

So you turn and rush back, catching Eddie with his back turned and spinning him around so you can peck him again. You feel his cheeks heat beneath your palm and his sigh against your cupid’s bow and his lips melt against your own.

You etch each tingling sensation into the edges of your mind in the hope that you won’t drive yourself completely insane when you inevitably start to miss him like crazy. 

You focus on that and on him when you find Hopper and his stupid proud dad smirk. It’s the only reason you don’t punch him in the jaw and tuck and roll out of the Cruiser when the silence becomes so slowly insufferable.

You’re starting to think Jim left the radio off on purpose. You’ve never known the guy not to drive around without the strumming of an old-school folk song to accompany him. You figure it must be some sort of intimidation tactic, to make you so uncomfortable that you break. You’re a lot closer to that than either of you realize.

You spare a glance over at the man next to you. He hasn’t looked at you once since you get in the car. He’s got one hand at three o’clock on the steering wheel and the other with its elbow propped up on the door as he scratches at the stubble on his jaw. 

He’s too at ease not to be bothered. This is obviously some kind of front he’s putting on to conceal his inner irritation.

You give on the lecture you’d been trying to prepare yourself for and exhale sharply through your nose. Your fingers fidget on your thighs as you kick your restless feet up on the console. 

“Get your feet off the dash,” Jim scolds without missing a beat. 

You huff and obey. “Okay, this is crazy— can’t you just yell at me already?”

He barely wastes a second.

“I cannot believe you right now!” he seethes through gritted teeth, stewing in a dad-like sort of anger.

“It was three days, Hopper!”

“You know what happened the last time no one heard from you for three days?” he shouts back. 

You tip your head back against the seat and groan. You should’ve known he was going to play that card. 

He waves an accusatory finger between the both of you. “You and me— we had a deal, remember? You let me check in on you. You agreed to that. You visit your little high school friends, and I see you at work, so I can make sure you’re not off somewhere killing yourself.”

Hopper becomes a casualty to the tense silence he created then, when you don’t retort with some comeback of your own and force him to feel every ounce of pressure from the leaden quiet. 

He sighs a great big, too loud sigh and shifts in his seat. His softening gaze flits between you and the road. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I just meant it, you know, figuratively. I wasn’t… trying to be mean.”

“When have you ever cared about being mean?” you monotone.

“I don’t,” he assures. “I’m just not trying to hurt your feelings, alright? Jeez…”

You try not to take too much pride in the man’s half-apology, though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little bit rewarding.

Jim Hopper’s practically an iceberg. He only melts for his kid, Joyce Boyers, and you, apparently. 

It’s why he’s always so damn protective over you. He’s developed this sort of deep-rooted urge to keep you safe after watching you make every wrong decision a human being could possibly make. And when you mess up, because you do mess up, he feels like it’s partially his fault — that, if he’d done more, he could’ve kept you safer. 

It makes you feel like a burden most of the time, but you know it’s above yourself and mostly out of your control.

You’d known of each other for a while before you really met, because a troublemaker and police chief in such a small town are bound to. But somewhere down the line, he found you in a valley of mourning for someone that was still alive and you found him in a black hole of grief for someone who wasn’t. The empty and infinite voids within you both were stitched slowly together all over again. 

Jim Hopper was the dad you never had. You were the daughter he couldn’t.

And you thought something might change after he adopted El. You figured he might forget about you because it wasn’t like it was his job to watch after you or anything. Playing pretend always felt nice, but you knew it wasn’t real. 

It was to Jim, though, who’d developed a similar adoration for you as the one he had for Sara. He hasn’t been able to forget about you in the same way he hasn’t been able to forget about her. 

Every night, after he’s scrubbed the day off his body and washed it all down with a lukewarm beer, he lays on his pull-out bed in the small living room of his cabin and goes through a checklist in his head. 

He makes sure that he’s checked on El and reminds himself to wake up early to make her breakfast the next morning before he brings Joyce coffee at Melvald’s — Joyce. She always comes next on his list, always right after El, and then you. 

He forces himself to calm down when his blood pressure inevitably spikes at the thought of not having heard from you all day. He reminds himself that he saw you at work on his lunch break and that he’ll see you again tomorrow.

Jim hums to himself as he settles more comfortably into his springy cot, deciding that he’ll try a new wine he can’t pronounce when he sees you at Enzo’s the next day and that he’ll drink it while he rambles about Joyce or El’s new boyfriend.

He drifts to sleep with thoughts of Sara.

You’re as ingrained into his mind as every other person he’s grown to love.

He stopped worrying about never getting you out a long time ago. Like a tomato sauce stain on a dress shirt, he knows he’ll never get you out of his head. He knows even more so that he doesn’t want to — no matter how much you annoy him or how angry you make him when you don’t answer his calls.

“Sorry…” you murmur and swallow down whatever mundane argument you could’ve spewed then, at the result of his sudden warmth. You turn to gaze out the window and trace the edges of the puffy white clouds with your eyes. “I wasn’t thinking about that — the… deal, or whatever… Honestly, I was a little too busy being happier than I think I’ve ever been in my life, so…”

You don’t see the dramatic eye roll he gives you in response, but you can’t miss the hearty groan that spills from his mouth. 

“What?” you laugh in response. “Have you never been a kid in love before?”

It’s almost jarring how he goes from huffy to concerned in a fraction of a second. His head snaps over to you, jaw clenched and eyes suddenly stern and swimming with a lingering fear. 

“Love?” he repeats like he must’ve heard you wrong. “Love— That’s— That’s what this is?”

You shrug. “I don’t know… Maybe…”

His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Please don’t tell me you’ve said that to each other yet. This guy was just a crush four days ago.”

“No, Hopper. We haven’t. I mean, he literally just told me he was a virgin, so I don’t think we’re even close to—”

“A virgin?” Jim echoes, voice high-pitched and giddy. He beams at you from beneath his bushy mustache and slaps you a little too hard on your arm when he laughs. “Shit, teacup. Are you runnin’ out of options over there or somethin’?”

You twist your body to hit him back harder with your right hand. “It’s not funny, Hopper,” you scold. “He’s nice.”

“You said that about Hargrove once—”

“This is different,” you monotone before the words have the chance to leave his mouth.

“Yeah? How do you know?”

The question stumps you for a moment because you don’t know — you can’t.

You’d never admit it out loud, but Hopper was right; you’re still not quite sure how you ever could’ve thought that Billy Hargrove was a good guy, but you did. You felt a similar feeling of elation with him as you do now with Eddie, an otherworldly sort of happiness that makes you feel like you’re the only person it’s ever happened to.

And here you are now, sometime later and reveling in the aftermath, still gluing pieces of your shattered heart together.

You treat love like a drug. You use and use and use until it stops being a fun thing and becomes a crutch you can’t live without. That’s always when it starts to hurt you, but you’re in too deep to stop craving it.

And you know it’s bound to happen all over again, but you have to believe Eddie’s different or else you might as well fall into the deep pit of despair you’ve been trying this whole time to crawl out of. 

He makes you happy, really really happy, and you’d rather gamble that he hurts you than give it all without even trying.

“I… don’t,” you conclude after a few moments.

Jim seems surprised by your admission, shooting you an incredulous look with his untamed brows raised to his hairline.

You meet his look with a wavering grin. “But he makes me really happy, Hop. Like… It feels like it should be illegal or something. He makes me feel so good my heart hurts. There’s like this—”

“Ugh,” the man grumbles in disgust, sullen all over again.

“I didn’t mean it like that, you weirdo,” you chide.

A grin twitches beneath his mustache in response. “I know you didn’t… ‘Cause Munson’s a virgin.”

“Oh my god!” you groan. “I didn’t even mean to tell you that, okay? Leave him alone— and a swear to god, Hopper, if you make fun of him—”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it, alright? I mean, he’s got the expert around to show him the ropes— ow!” You cut off his stupid joke and accompanying sardonic grin with a fist to his shoulder.

Steve and Robin tend to be quite the formidable duo.

They’ve barely got a brain cell to rub together between them, but there’s still something strangely intimidating about them when they’re both angry. It feels a bit like they’re your I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed parents, and you’re the scolded child taking your lashings in the form of a lecture.

It’s what you feel like now, sitting across from them in your designated booth at Benny’s Burgers — the one by the window in the corner. It’s far enough away from the bustle of the entrance but close enough still to gossip about the assholes you used to know from high school when they walk through the door. 

“You scare the shit out of us when you go AWOL like that, you know?” Steve confesses, still soft even though you know there’s a more upset part of himself he keeps hidden for now.

His chocolate gaze flits between you and the pile of fries in the middle of the table that the three of you share. He finds the one covered in the most salt and pops it into his mouth.

“AWOL?” you echo with a distant laugh when you realize how much he sounds like Hopper. “It was three days.”

“Yeah, and you fell off the face of the earth,” Robin retorts, half-muffled through the hearty gulp of strawberry milkshake starting to melt in her mouth.

“You guys are acting like I went halfway across the country,” you scoff. “I was with Eddie. At his trailer.”

“Exactly!”

Steve’s face contorts mid-bite. “Wait, you were with him? The freak?”

It makes you roll your eyes. He’d been too busy hopelessly flirting with the waitress at the counter to hear the entire recounting of your absence to Robin, though it was more of you gushing about it than anything else.

“Yep,” you answer.

“You skipped out on movie night to be with… Eddie Munson?” he reiterates for himself, as though there was any correlation between watching the same three movies while gorging on greasy junk food with your best friends and falling more in love with a guy you were already head over heels for as he tried to explain away the unopened box of condoms collecting dust underneath his bed.

Both are equally fun in their own ways, but totally totally different.

“How did you survive without me, Steven?” you joke back in response.

“He didn’t,” Robin quips.

“So… what? You guys just went on some kinda bender? I don’t get it. Did you just fuck the entire time or something?”

“Well, contrary to popular belief, I can actually spend time with someone and not fuck them—”

“Okay, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“And to answer your question — no, we didn’t fuck,” you confess, then elaborate more slowly, a tad bit awkwardly. “Because he told me today that… he is a… virgin.”

Your words seem to settle over each of them differently. Robin stills with her lips wrapped around the candy-cane striped straw then furrows her brows, as though their meaning hits her a few seconds after the fact.

Steve, meanwhile, goes entirely agape in an amazed sort of shock. His eyes go wide, his brows fly up and hide beneath the bangs that hang down over his forehead, and his jaw falls open. And then he starts to smile, a subtle hint of a grin on the corners of his pink lips, like he finds it funny.

“I knew it,” he murmurs to himself.

“…Why are you smiling like that?”

His smirk widens. “That freak said he screwed Vicki Carmichael senior year. I knew he was lying.”

“And why do you look so proud of yourself, exactly?” Robin asks him.

“Because now I feel less bad about never fucking her,” the boy explains like it’s obvious. He set his elbows on the table and gestures wildly with his hands. “I always thought the freak one-upped me because she, like, never gave me the time of day after Hargrove came along, you know? But… It’s good to know that I’m still king.”

His delighted grin is met with confused looks from both you and Robin, who look upon him with twisted eyebrows and squinted eyes. 

“Are you not aware of how strange everything that comes out of your mouth is?” you ask him, only partly joking.

“At least that settles why he wouldn’t let you give him a blow job,” the brunette girl concludes with a shrug as she slouches against the booth. “Poor guy was probably shitting bricks about it.”

You realize then that it does make sense, why he’d always been so adamant about your pleasure and never his own. Why he always touched you like you were some fragile thing he might break, and like everything was new to him. Because it was new to him. All of it.

And even though it baffles you to no end how he went his entire life without someone wanting to jump his bones (because truth be told, you’re doing a terrible job at hiding your want to do just that), the fact still remains — Eddie Munson is a virgin. 

He’s a virgin with an acute infatuation for the local slut, both of you freaks in your own right. 

It just adds more intricacy to a puzzle that already feels so complicated.

“I’ve never been with a virgin before,” you admit quietly, mostly to yourself, as you train your gaze on the straw wrapper you curl around your finger. “It’s different… Scary.”

“Why?” Robin wonders aloud.

“I don’t know. I just— I don’t know what to do now.”

“Just do what you always do,” Steve tells you like it’s that simple. He folds his arms on the table and leans in closer to you. “Experience is good. Okay? Experience is key.”

“No, it’s not that. I think I’m just… I’m scared I’m gonna treat him the way, you know, that I was treated. And I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna do that to him.”

You’re not sure when the shift started, when you stopped being a person to people. You only know that you were something less than that. Somewhere between junior and senior year, you become a plaything that anyone could do anything they wanted to with, and you were too starved for physical affection to tell them otherwise. 

You liked the attention. You liked feeling loved, even if it was only for a minute and a half, and all you had to show for it was a pool of cooling come on your belly.

Eddie’s the fragile thing now that you were then. 

He was a delicate little thing that can break so easily, something you could split in half if you wanted to. 

You don’t. 

You want so desperately to be kind, but you’re scared you won’t know how to, because no one’s ever been kind to you.

Steve reaches across the table for you, taking a wild stab at an attempt for affection after several months of being scared to touch you — he did enough of that, he thought, and he’d hurt you. But he can see the lingering ache hiding in your glazed-over eyes and feels an overwhelming urge to quell your worry. 

Five warm fingers wrap around your wrist, not too tight or too strong, just enough to stop you from cutting circulation off to the tip of your pointer finger and to remind you that he’s still there.

“Trust me,” he tells you with a sudden soft swimming in his caramel-colored eyes and a smile playing on his lips. “You couldn’t do that to anybody. Not even if you wanted to.”  

Your heart nearly stops at his words, at the sheer kindness of them, and at the way he holds you in the soft way you’re used to only Eddie holding you. Your eyes go wide when they flit up to him and then start to sting with the weight of unshed tears. 

You’re quick to blink them away though, while you playfully shrug him off and joke — “stop being so nice before I get the wrong idea, Harrington” — because it’s easier than accepting his tenderness.

Robin takes one look at his fond gaze, all gooey and dripping with honey, and then at your rolling eyes and accompanying shy grin, and groans at the softness of it all. She slides out from the confines of the booth and grumbles something about getting a refill on her milkshake.

“Some fries too, while you’re up?” Steve offers with a hopeful grin.

He’s met with the girl’s signature scowl.

“Please,” you finish for him.

Robin grins. “Anything for you,” she croons, if only to make the boy pout, before skipping off to the counter.

She leans her elbows upon the red wooden laminate top and smiles that same sickly sweet smile for Benny by the grill — no doubt trying to get her refills for free. 

Even though the bearded man seems unimpressed with her presence, you know that he’ll give them to her free of charge. He’s always had a soft spot for her, one of the only people in town who could rival his wit.

The door dings open, a familiar and high-pitched chime that often becomes more frequent as the evening progresses. This time it lets in a foreign, bitter breeze when the door swings open and closed again.

You can feel the chill from a distance — it resembles the crispness of autumn despite being comfortably settled in the middle of March. It nearly takes your breath away, prickles your skin and makes you grimace back a shiver. 

When your eyes leave Steve, a difficult feat considering he’s doing an alarmingly good impression of a walrus by sticking fries in his upper lip, you find that it wasn’t abnormally cold air at all. It was a Peter Parker spider sense form of anxiety that had felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over you.

Billy Hargrove used to turn heads when he walked into a room. 

Now he just sucks all the air out of it.

And it’s not like you haven’t seen him since the break up; for a while, the asshole was painted on the backs of your eyelids — he all but haunted your consciousness. You’ll see him around town on occasion, in his sunglasses and jean jacket and too-tight denim pants, while he struts around Main Street with his new girlfriend (otherwise known as, his flavors of the month).

You think this is the first time you’ve been in the same room as him since your split, though. It feels like it must be with the way your throat starts to tighten and you forget how to breathe. 

All at once, you’re scrambling for an exit. It’s like Billy’s a fire and his smoke is rapidly filling your lungs. Your legs start to tremble when your adrenaline spike. Your brain tells you to get out as quickly as you can before he burns you.

Steve notices the look of fear flood your features like a dark storm cloud. You were laughing just seconds before the door opened, equal parts with him and at him, but now you just looked terrified — like a child who’s just spotted a boogeyman in her closet.

He turns in the booth to find what haunted thing has just caught your eye and finds that it’s worse than any monster you could conjure up. It’s Billy fucking Hargrove, with his pretty hair and his pretty smile and his pretty girl under his arm.

His presence filled targeted, almost. Like he chose to come to this diner, on this day and at this time just to fuck with the group of you.

“Don’t even look at him,” Steve advises when he turns back to you. “Look at me, okay? He’s not even worth it. That asshole doesn’t deserve to ruin our day.”

And you try to listen to him. You try really, really hard to let him change that subject to the cold fries or Robin taking too long or a combination of the two, but you can’t focus on him. You’re already so overwhelmed at the sight of Billy that you can’t focus on anything else but him. 

You settle on the fact that you might just have to drag Steve and Robin out by their wrists because you can’t sit in this booth any longer, and you definitely aren’t hungry anymore.

And that’s when he spots you.

Your eyes lock and you freeze, immediately averting your gaze but catching the sudden sparkle in his own as he grins a sly, sadistic grin.

“No way,” you hear him say with a laugh under his breath. The sound of his voice makes you tense. You hadn’t realized how at peace you’d been all this time without having to hear it. Now it feels like so many little needles piercing your skin.

“Fancy seeing you guys here,” he greets after he’s made a b-line for your booth and dragged Vicki Carmichael along with him. He smiles with all of his pearly whites while he smacks pungent wintergreen gum between them. 

When he slides into the booth beside you, he does so without invitation, and forces Vicki to slink in next to Steve.

And like it wasn’t already awkward enough, you know Vicki — like, know her, know her. There was a drunken makeout at a Halloween party in ’82. Then a one night stand with her brother before he left for college in ’83. And then her Tom Selleck clone of a father at a sleepover for her eighteenth birthday in ’85. 

You’re not exactly proud of it, but you’ve gotten a rather hefty taste of her family tree, and the fact that both of you know it makes it that much more uncomfortable.

“We’re kinda busy here, Hargrove,” Steve tells him when he notices how comfortable he’s making himself in your booth.

“Ooh… Is this a little date?” Billy teases with a grin.

Steve’s face falls. “…No.”

“Oh, right,” he nods, though the sardonic lilt in his voice tells you that he already knew the answer. He crosses his arms on the tabletop and turns to look at you with eyes bluer than any ocean. They flicker up and down your form. Suddenly, you feel self-conscious in your baggy jean and tank top duo.

“You’ve been seeing that guy, haven’t you? What’s his name again? The, uh— the freak?”

“His name is Eddie,” Steve answers for you, defending him because you can’t find the words to.

“That’s it,” Billy snaps his fingers, then points. He nudges you with his shoulder. The familiar feel of his jean jacket against your skin makes you wince. “God, you must be runnin’ out of steam over there, huh? I mean… the freak? Seriously? You couldn’t do any better than that?”

The jokes were tolerable coming from Jim and Steve and Robin — they weren’t funny by any means, but you could stomach them because you knew they were jokes. But this? This was just to hurt you. And it works too easily because Billy knows exactly how to break you. He knows all the wires to cut and buttons to push because the puzzle of shattering your psyche is one he memorized long ago.

“He’s actually a really nice guy,” you manage through a tight throat, still staring at your fidgeting hands.

“Well, that’s good,” he hums like you need his approval. “It’s about time, right?”

You huff and choose to entertain him despite your better judgment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He only shrugs. “I don’t know... Just, you know, that found a guy willing to settle for you. That’s all.”

“Settle?” you repeat, trying to laugh despite how tiny your voice sounds.

“You know what I mean, c’mon,” the blonde boy chuckles. “Sluts are fun and all, but they’re not the kinda girls you wanna settle down with. Steve knows what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” Steve monotones quickly and without thinking, gaze hardened and jaw clenched. “And you need to leave.”

“I”m hungry, Billy,” Vicki whines, feeling every ounce of the tension surrounding her — like syrup or quicksand. She slides her permed bangs from her eyes and tucks a rogue strawberry strand behind her ear in a nervous tick. “Can’t we just get something to eat?”

“Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted,” Billy chuckles.

You grumble bitterly under your breath. “Apparently not…”

“I’ll see you around, Harrington,” Billy singsongs with a grin that wreaks of insincerity while his girlfriend slides out from the booth. He turns to look at you and squints. “Don’t be a stranger, alright? Matter of fact, point Munson my way, and I’ll give him a few pointers.”

You’re uncowed by his offer and angered by his mention of Eddie. Your eyes are stern and unwavering as you meet his gaze for the first time since he sat down beside you. 

“I think you could learn a thing or two from him, actually,” you retort, words sounding sweeter than the venom lingering behind them.

Billy’s grin only widens, impressed by your arguing. “Ooh… I forgot about the mouth you had on you, sweetheart.”

The use of the nickname makes you cringe. It doesn’t sound nearly as fulfilling as it does when it comes from Eddie. Now, it just sounds artificial — degrading.

He leans in close to you like he’s about to tell you a secret and splays his arm along the back of the booth behind you. The nicotine on his breath makes you grimace; it’s intoxicating when it comes from Eddie, disgusting from the boy sitting next to you. 

His eyes are bluer so up close, darker than you remember them being, and you notice he’s trimmed his usual stubble to a patchy mustache. He looks like the grown-up version of the boy you used to know, visually more mature but still the same in his way.

“When he gets bored of you — because, let’s be serious, he will get bored of you — you know where to find me,” Billy murmurs to you, a cynical smirk on the edges of his lips. “I’ll make sure you stay nice and broken in for the next dozen guys that want a taste—”

Steve can’t hear a word from where he sits across the booth, but he’s fuming with fists clenched under the table anyway. He hates how close Billy is to you, more so how uncomfortable you look with the proximity and how his words make you flinch. 

“Alright, you need to leave,” he blurts. “Now.”

Before the blonde could respond with a quip of his own, Robin all but teleports to the head of the table. She’s standing in front of the four of you suddenly, carrying a basket of fries and a strawberry milkshake and wearing a frown on her face.

“You’re in my seat, dickwad,” she monotones, even though she hadn’t been sitting next to you before. She’s not the least bit threatened by the Californian douchebag.

Billy smiles up at her anyway. “I was wondering where the third musketeer was! Still a carpet muncher, Buckley?”

“Happily.”

“What do ya say me and you head up to Lover’s Lake later?” the boy offers despite his date shifting awkwardly a few feet away. It’s a joke, for reasons that are more than obvious, and that’s what makes it so unbearably unfunny. 

He slinks out from the booth. The lack of his warmth is strangely comforting and you’re able to breathe for the first time in five minutes. He stretches his back out when he stands to his full height in front of Robin, then shrugs with his hands splayed on his hips.

“Maybe you just need some good dick. I mean… we’re gonna die anyway, right?”

“I’d rather,” she quips with a rouge-tinted smile.

The way it makes him laugh is startling. He finds a strange humor in being rejected — in most things, really. You still haven’t forgotten the cackles that left his bloodied mouth when Steve delivered blow after blow to the boy’s face in the middle of his living room, like it was all a fun game to him.

That was, of course, before Billy got the upper hand and nearly killed Steve that night. He laughed about it that too, until Max knocked him out with a baseball bat.

He’s got the same grin on his face now as he did then when he turns to look at you. A pink and pretty smirk, just wide enough to reveal the dimple in his left cheek. It’s nothing short of taunting, like he’s mocking you without having to say anything at all.

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” Billy repeats. He keeps smacking his gum between his teeth and winks at you before spinning on the heel of his boot. He guides Vicki with him to the counter with a hand on the back pocket of her jeans.

Even when Robin slides in next to you and effectively pierces the bubble of tension that had already started to shrink with Billy’s leaving, you still find it hard to breathe. You have to keep reminding yourself, forcing oxygen in and out with wobbling breaths through your nose, or else you just stop altogether.

The other two move on rather quickly, having no trouble finding their voices again after he’s gone. Their words are muffled, though, like they’re underwater.

“I forgot what an asshole he was,” Robin grumbles.

“Well, I didn’t,” Steve retorts, eyes scanning the basket of fries for the most strategic pick of the bunch. “I can still barely breathe through my nose.”

“That’s because you didn’t go to a doctor, dingus.”

“Because I didn’t need a doctor, Robin.”

“Yeah, because being concussed three times in two years is so healthy—”

Your eyes act like magnets as they stay locked on Billy’s form. He leans in closer to Vicki to tell her something, then pats her once on the ass before walking towards the exit again. The door dings when he swings it open. Through the window, you catch him pulling out a red and white pack of cigarettes — the same brand of Marlboro Reds he’s been smoking since he was in middle school.

“You okay?” you hear Steve say, but it sounds too far away for you to realize he’s talking to you.

Robin nudges you with her shoulder to jog you from your stupor. You blink hard once and then turn to her with wide eyes. “What?”

“You doing alright over there?” the girl wonders.

“Yeah,” your answer is too quick and too high-pitched to be true. “Fine.”

“Like, fine as in you’re actually fine, or fine as in, if I leave you alone for too long, I’m gonna find you living under a bridge like a troll?”

You roll your eyes at her. “Fine as in, if someone bums me a cigarette, I’ll be good as new.”

Steve huffs when you hold out the palm of your hand toward him. He’s the only one of you who smokes recreationally enough to carry a lighter and pack of cigs with him. You swear he only keeps it with him because the weight of them makes him feel cool. You’re grateful for them now, though, and for the escape they unexpectedly provide you.

His fingers are warm when they brush your hand. The metal zippo he drops in the center of it is far colder and carries a comforting sort of weight to it. He thumbs a cigarette from the pack for you, and you take it with a sardonic smile and a sickly sweet “thank you, Stevie.” 

Robin gets out of the booth to let you slide out of it.

The door chimes again, this time over your head when you open it. 

Fresh, spring air nearly knocks you on your ass when it hits you for the first time. You realize then, that you’d forgotten to tell yourself to breathe and now your vision’s all swimmy. The cool breeze tries its hardest to quell your swelling anger, but you’re still at a simmering boil. Fists clenched over the lighter and cig duo in your palm and your sneakers slapping angrily against the cracked pavement.

That’s what signals your arrival, the raging stomps that echo in the alleyway Billy takes his smoke break in. 

The boy takes a puff of his cigarette and smirks on the exhale at the sight of you. All he needs is one glance to see how angry he’s made you. It’s an innocent, childlike sort of rage that’s got you all scrunched face and red — a heartbroken girl on a war path.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me, sweetheart,” he taunts with his signature sarcastic smile. He holds his arms at his sides, like he’s waiting for some kind of embrace from you. “You used to be like that all the time — all over me, you know? Clingy.”

“You know what you used to be?” you ask him once you’ve planted yourself a few feet away from him, fists shaking at your sides in a nearly overwhelming mixture of rage and apprehension.

“What’s that?”

“Nice! You used to be nice! Or do you not remember that?” you wonder rhetorically. Your anger fades slowly, an ebbing tide, as a reminiscent sadness eclipses your fury — a flood of blue in all your red. 

The sharp frown between your brows crumbles and so does your clenched jaw as your harsh features crumple like a balled-up piece of paper. You look upon the man that broke your heart with all the shattered pieces of it.

“You used to let me sleep over at your place when I was too scared to sleep alone at mine, and you’d bring me food when I told you I hadn’t eaten all day, and you’d take me on drives when you knew I hadn’t left my apartment in days,” you ramble in a single breath, gesticulating wildly with your hands — waving them at him and at you and the still air between. They fall hopelessly to your sides. 

“You used to be so sweet, Billy…” you conclude with a wavering breath. Your chest trembles on the inhale as you straighten out your shoulders and lift your chin, trying your best not to look as defeated as you feel. “And you know what you are now?”

Billy grins that stupid grin at you, the one that almost looks kind. Almost. It’s still soft in all its insincerity, like a parent entertaining their kid that’s gone on some meaningless tangent.

“No, sweetheart,” he answers after a beat. “What am I?”

“Not nice.”

He scoffs out a laugh.

“You used to tell me, all the time, how scared you were about ending up like you’re dad—” he tenses at the mention of the man, of his own monster in his own closet. “—He’d beat you black and blue every night, and I’d bandage all your cuts and put makeup on you when you begged, so you could go out and pretend like everything was normal. And you know what? You’re just like him!”

Billy doesn’t cower when you walk closer to him. He’s got no reason to be afraid of you, but your words hit him in a place far deeper than a thousand bloodied fists.

“What he did to you, is exactly what you do to me… Or do you know see that?” you don’t wait for a sarcastic reply, mostly because you wouldn’t see the indicators of it through the tears that blur your vision. “You’re not punching me, but it feels like you are. You break me over and over and over and I have to pretend like everything’s just normal and that we—”

“Real mature of you. To bring out the dad-card,” he interjects, if only to stop your ramblings so that he might not have to hear the truth that comes with them.

“You used to he nice,” you repeat, you agonize, you deflate. “Or… Or did you never use to be?”

The shell of your mind answers for you, paints itself with all the memories you’ve been trying like hell to forget for the past six months. It’s easier to pretend the bad things aren’t real than unravel all the reasons why they were bad to begin with, you find.

The negative memories come together like renaissance paintings — dark and gloomy and blotted with too realistic tears and spatters of blood. The oil stains the backs of your eyelids, destined to remain there forever like paintings in museum that’ll stand the test of time if you nurse them well enough.

You hadn’t yet been able to forget the screams and the cracks of fists colliding with bone. They tend to keep you up at night, even when you squeeze your eyes shut and beg for your memory to be wiped away completely. 

Billy crouches over Steve’s chest and pummels wholehearted punches to the boy’s face, never tiring in their force, even well after the boy goes limp underneath him. You beg for him to stop while trying like hell to shield Max from the sight of it all. 

For a while, you’d blamed yourself for it — for Max being there in the first place and for Steve’s cuts and bruises. 

You’d taken the girl and sought refuge in the Harrington home after witnessing a rather heated fight between Billy and his father. There was a sudden urge within you to take her far away from it before it ended how it always did — in weeping cuts and salty tears and insincere apologies when the cops were called.

But you made it worse anyway. 

For Max, for Steve. 

And you apologized profusely for it after, cried to the boy in his bathroom while you nursed his cuts like you were the one who put them there. 

When he told you it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t believe him. Not until now. Not until you realized that Billy had always been angry — always raging with an ocean of fear and grief and violence.

When he fought with his sister, you thought it was normal, that that’s just what siblings did. But the way she cried to you after couldn’t have been normal. Neither could the unearthly fury that washed over Billy like a riptide when he found out you and Max had sought safety in Steve The Hair Harrington — angered that it was Steve and that he couldn’t be that for the both of you.

And then there was the fights. The yelling and screaming and crying fights that felt like the end of the world every single time. The kind of fights you shouldn’t be having when you’re eighteen. You thought that maybe there was some normalcy in the cheating and the secrecy and Billy’s accompanying assholery because that was all you’d ever known.

Or maybe because you had to tell yourself that was normal in relationships because you didn’t want your’s to end. Billy was the first guy to give a damn about you in ways that went beyond just sex. How were you supposed to just give that up?

But then there’s Eddie — Eddie The Freak Munson, who was really just sunshine wrapped up in leather jackets and wild hair and chunky rings and metal music. He makes you happy. The sort of happy that makes you suspicious because something bad has to counteract all the goodness he makes you feel. 

Maybe that’s what this was. 

Seeing Billy after having wrapped yourself in a blanket of Eddie’s warmth made you see somehow more clearly. He loves on you so much that it’s made a mockery of everything else. 

Whatever you had with Billy wasn’t normal, it was a goddamn shit show. He loved you when it was convenient and then had you believing it was the real thing, that you wouldn’t find it anywhere else, when you tried to leave him. 

It was a lie, all of it.

The realization makes you falter.

“Oh, god…” you sigh, voice fragile like cracking glass. “Maybe you never used to be…”

For the first time ever, you see Billy’s grin shake. The edges of it flitter, like he’s fighting to keep the corners quirked up. And his eyes have gone a lighter shade of blue, the way they always did when he blinked back angry tears as he talked about his father.

It isn’t rage glassing his eyes now. It’s something sadder, but still as real — something you never got from him in the two years you were together.

He tries, still, to cover it all up. He smacks his lips against his teeth, sympathetically. “Sorry it took you this long to figure that out.”

The laugh you exhale then is heavy with sadness. Your smile is far away and so is your gaze as you stumble back from him. You turn your head to the edge of the alley where mom’s with strollers and people in fancy suits bustle on the sidewalk and keep your eyes on the strangers that whiz by you’ll probably never see again. 

“This is… This is pointless,” you murmur. His lean form is blurry through the burning tears you blink away. “Every time I see you, it’s just more bullshit so let’s just— let’s just leave each other alone, okay?”

Billy takes a puff from his cigarette. When he sighs, white smoke billows from his plump, pink lips. “That’s a shame… I was just thinking that you were the most interesting you’d ever been.”

The ebbing tide that had just left you rushes back in a bubbling scarlet wave. His words don’t make you sad anymore, they just make you angry all over again because you know you don’t deserve them. And you’re not entirely sure why he’s chosen you to antagonize out of all the other girls who’d made the mistake of falling for him, but you’re too far past the point of not caring to ask.

“Bother me again and I tell Chief Hopper,” you threaten even though you don’t feel very threatening just now. “I know you’re not scared of me, but you’d be stupid to be scared of him.”

“Why’s that?” he wonders before sticking the half-gone stick between his lips again.

“Because he runs Hawkins. And he fucking hates you—” for what you did to me, you almost say. You swallow the words down like bile before they have the chance to spew out. “And… And be nice to Vicki. Okay? She’s too good for you. Don’t do to her what you did to me.”

Your plea for another is the last thing you say to Billy before you turn away from him. You wouldn’t be upset if it was the last thing you ever said to him. You’re grateful for the resounding silence that follows. It’s nothing but the sound of your receding footsteps and the soles of his shoes scrapping the concrete as he snuffs out his cigarette. 

There is no snarky remark or insincere plea — just two people who used to love each other that have no idea to exist together anymore. 

When you step outside the brick confines of the alleyway, you feel as though a fraying string that had always connected the both of you had been finally cut.

It allows you to take a deep breath in for the first time in months. A lungful of fresh air that cleanses you, body and mind.

And when you catch Steve and Robin idling at the corner and doing a terrible job of pretending like they hadn’t just been eavesdropping, you don’t get upset or angry with them — you don’t feel much of anything, really.

You just hand the boy his lighter and unused cigarette and let them comfort you on the drive back to your apartment.

A misery sandwich. That’s what Robin calls the three of you and the heaping pile you lay in. 

Your queen-sized bed is in no way meant to accomodate three moderately sized adults, but you make it work anyway, like you always do.

Steve lays on his back, legs crossed and hands tucked under his head. Robin is on her stomach on the other end of the mattress, arms wrapped around the pillow she smushes the side of her face into. You lay between the both of them — on the both of them. Sprawled out sideways, you’ve got your head on propped up on Steve’s ribcage and your legs thrown over Robin’s thighs. 

The awkward position is the most comfortable you’ve ever been.

“I can’t believe that asshole had the nerve to show up to the diner on our day,” the boy rants. “And then sit in our booth, I mean— who does he think he is?”

Robin’s response is mostly muffled by the pillow. “I thought he left, like, forever ago.” 

“Maybe he just couldn’t stay away. It’s Hawkins, shit attracts shit, right?” Steve answers with a shrug that jostles your head slightly. It doesn’t little to knock you from your stupor, though, where you’ve been stuck for the better part of the day. You pick at the skin around your nails with little regard for how red and raging it's gone.

He notices this and thumps you on your temple — hard enough for you to feel it, gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt you. 

You turn your chin to your shoulder to look over at him. He tilts his own head to stare down at you, honey-tinted gaze somehow stern and soft at the same time. “If he bothers you again, I’ll kill him.”

You’re instantly warmed by his protective disposition. You know that he cares about you, even though you like to joke that he doesn’t. Steve hurt you once, made a promise to himself to make it up to you, and then just never left you alone. 

You’re grateful for it. 

You’re not sure who’d be the butt of every joke if he wasn’t around.

“Good to know,” you answer, nodding against his side and trying to hide the smile he gives you. You fail. “You think if he breaks your nose again, it’ll pop back into place?”

His face falls. “You’re real sweet, you know that?”

You open your mouth to respond, something along the lines of “I’m always sweet. You of all people should know that, Stevie,” before a knock sounds at the front door. It comes in the several rhythmic raps that Eddie is known to give when he’s got a tune stuck in his head. 

Apparently now, it’s the chorus to “Why Can’t This Be Love?” The Van Halen song he said he couldn’t stand before you.

Robin huffs at the sound of the muffled taps. She frowns like a child. “Who the hell…?”

“It’s just Eddie,” you affirm through a half-hearted grunt as you rise from your comfy position.

That brightens the two of them up almost immediately. Her and Steve share a look you can’t place as they grin at one another. Then they turn back to you with identical mischievous twinkles in their eyes. “Your boyfriend is here,” the former of the two singsongs.

You roll your eyes, but make no move to correct her. 

When you stand from the bed and make the short journey towards the door, you hear the patter of their feet following close behind you. 

“Gonna go all the way tonight?” Steve teases and jabs you on the shoulder. “Do you want us to leave?”

“No, nothing is happening. And yes, I think you should leave,” you monotone playfully.

Robin rushes past you suddenly and grabs the brass door handle before you’re able. She swings it open without thinking twice about it. Her sudden appearance, coupled with the fact that it isn’t you, startles the man on the other side of the door.

Eddie’s umber eyes go wide, brows raising and disappearing beneath his fluffy bangs, as his head jerks back.

“Eddie Munson,” the girl full-names the stranger she’s never spoken a word to before now. She leans against the doorway and effectively blocks the boy’s view of you. Steve, who squeezes himself in beside her, doesn’t make it any easier. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You too, Buckley…” he wavers, trying to peer past them for any sight of you.

“Perfect timing, Eds,” you call out from behind them. “They were just about to leave.”

He’s relieved at the sound of your voice — even more so at your appearance when the two in front of you step off to the side to toe on their sneakers. 

You don’t look much different than when he saw you last. You’ve put on some makeup that’s started to smudge after the long day and changed your baggy sweatshirt for a more fitted tank top and boxers, but other than that you’re still the same. Still familiar and comforting in your way, a home away from home.

His smile is a tired one and it wobbles at the edges. “Oh, shit, am I— am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him. “You’re saving me, actually.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Steve scoffs. “You love us.” 

The boy pulls you into a hug before he leaves, and it’s not the rarest thing in the world, but embraces like this do tend to be few and far between. He whispers  “use protection” in your ear and then a sharp “ow!” when you jab him in the ribs.

He and Robin smile kindly at Eddie when they walk by him and out the door, but waste barely a second before turning back around and grinning wildly at you. Steve flashes you a thumbs up while she mouths a cartoonish ‘good luck’ — like it’s the first time you and Eddie had ever been alone together. Like they were just on your ass about having been with him this whole time.

You usher Eddie and shut the door behind them. A quiet sort of peace settles on the apartment like a weighted blanket. The boy revels in every bit of its warmth.

Exhaustion drips from him like syrup. He’s sticky with it. His eyes have lost their usual twinkle, weighed down now with the burden of his fatigue. His face has lost most of its color, leaving a pale sheath of monotoned skin, and his hair is wilder than normal, with an unintentional sort of ruggedness to his curls.

It’s what being without you has done to him.

“You okay?” you ask him softly. It almost makes him want to cry.

“Yeah,” he answers anyway and idles in the spot where your kitchen meets your living room. “Just had a pretty shitty day. Wanted to spend time with you.”

“Me too… About the wanting to spend time with you part— and the shitty day part, too, I guess.”

Eddie smiles at your rambling, but purses it to the side to conceal it from you. “And since it is just about our…” he trails off and bends his elbow to check the watch on his wrist. “…Twelve hour anniversary, I picked us up some takeout.”

He sets the plastic bag on the counter. The red logo of Oriental Jade on the side of it makes your stomach roll with a distant hunger. You hadn’t realized how starved you were feeling after you abandoned your early dinner at Benny’s. It makes you more grateful for Eddie, who always seems to be on the same wavelength as you without even trying.

“Keep this up and we’ll be married before we hit hour twenty-four,” you joke as you rifle through the cartons — chow mein, sweet and sour chicken, dumplings, the works.

Eddie settles in next to you, propping his elbows on the countertop. “Well, I’m pretty sure the courthouse opens at nine, so… What were you thinking for the honeymoon? Hawaii? Bora Bora?”

“How about a cabin in the woods where no one can find us?”

“Hmm… Spooky. Sexy. I’m into it.”

You settle in the living room and eat on the couch while She Ra re-runs play on the television. You try to teach Eddie how to use chopsticks, though he can only work them with his non-dominant hand and all the wrong finger placements. You think it’s cute to watch him fumble with them, and you giggle about it until you’re scolding him for trying to feed Bowie some noodles. He laughs as you swat at him.

When all the containers are fully scrapped clean and tossed in the recycling bin, you migrate to the bedroom — which is perhaps too raunchy a phrase to use when the two of you only bury yourselves under the covers to talk shit.

Eddie drags out the chunky box fan you use when the air conditioner goes out in the summer — because it always goes out in the summer — and props it on the chest at the foot of your bed so the covers will billow around the both of you. “And it’s perfect because we can stay in the fort forever and not get hot,” he tells you, all giddy about it like he's a kid again.

“What if I get cold?” you retort.

Without missing a beat, he answers, “Well, lucky enough for you, I know several ways I can warm you up, sweetheart.”

He ditches his leather jacket and strips down to his boxers and settles in beside you underneath the blankets. The two of you lay shoulder to shoulder while you trace absentminded patterns on the palm of his hand and tell him about your day.

You make sure to leave out all the re-traumatizing-Billy-Hargrove bits, though. You focus mainly on the tense drive with Hopper and the small fight you’d had with Steve on the drive to the diner later that afternoon about the lyrics to Love My Way (both of you had been wrong).

Eddie tries his hardest to focus on your story and your fleeting touches, but he’s too far in his own head. You tell him all these things but he can’t stop thinking about himself — about whether or not you might’ve brought him up somewhere in between. 

He wouldn’t have blamed you, if you had. Steve and Robin are your closest friends and, for whatever reason, so is Chief Hopper, you’re bound to bring him up eventually. He was just hoping it would’ve been in a better capacity. Maybe about how kind he was or what a god he was in bed — not how he could only be one of those things because he’d never been anything in bed.

“It doesn’t make things weird between us, does it?” he wonders out of the blue.

You halt mid-sentence and turn to him with furrowed brows. “What?”

Eddie realizes then, that the first half of the conversation with you had only happened in his head. He prays that it’s too dark beneath the covers for you to see how red his cheeks get. “Just… What we talked about this morning. About me… you know…” He finds it hard to say the words. Or any of them at all.

“Why would it make things weird?”

“I don’t know. Because I wasn’t… totally honest with you, I guess? I feel a little bad about it, you know?”

“It’s okay,” you assure and turn on your side to be closer to him. Eddie stays on his back, more than happy to let you cuddle further into him. “I guess I do wish you’d said something before, though.”

His chest tightens. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know how to—”

“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad!” you interject quickly when you catch the spiral of regret he was about to twist himself into. You curl tighter into his side, tossing a leg over his thigh and wrapping your hand around his bicep in an effort to melt with him. When he turns to face you, your noses nearly brush.

 “That’s not how I meant it. I just meant that, if I’d known before, I wouldn’t have… I would’ve taken things slower. I wouldn’t have been so, you know, so all over you.”

He hates how apologetic you sound. Like there was ever an ounce of him that would want to take back what happened that night at his trailer or a part of him that might hate how much you love on him.

“I liked it. I do like it.”

“Maybe we can just start over,” you offer. “Pretend like none of that ever happened.”

Eddie knows there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to forget about a single damn thing — not his cum stained jeans and how you looked so pretty washing them for him, not the feel of your tits in his mouth or you wrapped around his fingers, not how you made him blow his load all over his fist just by talking to him. 

He goes along with it anyway, though, just for you.

“Okay...” he nods slowly, then squints over at you. “You’re still my girlfriend, though, right?”

“Of course I am,” you giggle.

He grins proudly to himself. “Well then… Hope it’s not too early to have our first kiss then?”

It makes you roll your eyes because it’s such an Eddie Munson way of asking to kiss you. You told him earlier the day that he never had to ask you — in fact, you’d prefer it if he’d just kiss you out of the blue and take your breath away without you ever knowing it was coming. But there was something foreign and sweet in his little reassurances.

“Kiss me silly, Eddie Spaghetti,” you beam. He twists on his side to press tiny pecks to your smile.

It’s rather strange, you find, to kiss someone this way without the intention of it ever becoming something more. You kiss him just to kiss him — just to map the outline of his cupid’s bow and memorize the pattern of his tongue. Just to feel him, as much of him as your mouth will allow you to.

With one arm curled under his head and the other cradling your jaw, when his watch alarms — high-pitched beepbeepbeeps in quick succession — it’s sudden and close to your ear. 

Your lips click in protest when they part. His are pink and swollen and glossy with your spit. He smiles with them. “Happy twelve hour anniversary, sweetheart.”

“How long are you gonna make that stupid joke?” you laugh like your heart isn’t swelling so much you’re scared it might burst entirely.

“Uh, I was thinking… forever. Yeah. That sounds about right,” he concludes after a moment of feigned thought. He turns his watch off again and you swear you see him set for another twelve hours from now.

“Forever?” you echo.

“Uh-huh. Forever—” he presses his lips to yours once. “—And ever—” Twice. “—And ever.”

Eddie kisses you until you’re flat on your back and surrendering to each of his tiny little pecks. You twist your hands in his hair and let him love on you a little while more. You giggle when his mouth trails from your lips to your chin to your jaw to your neck. Please don’t get bored of me, you beg silently within your laughter.

I don’t think I could even if I wanted to, he answers with each kiss his sprinkles to your starved skin. How could I, when you’re the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me?

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU, part 13!!

July 13th <3

Owl - @jegulus-microfic - words: 914

First part Previous part

Letting his eyes glide over the skies, he looked behind him to check the kids were still following along. It was late, the once clear sky started to turn a dark blue. The activity was to go for a night walk, find a nice place in the woods that wasn’t too far from the main camp, and teach the teens how to start a fire.

Much to Regulus’ disappointment, James stood at the back while he stood forward, guiding everyone to the spot that he and James walked to yesterday to check it out. They’d set up some fairy lights, lay down some blankets and packed tools in their bag to start fires.

The distant sound of an owl hooting echoed through his ears, getting louder and softer until it stopped.

He weaved the silver chain strung his dark coloured jean shorts through his hands, feeling the cold metal brush against his hot skin, narrowing his eyes to see the distant glow of fairy lights through the towering trees.

Suddenly, he heard a weight drop into the grass next to him, the heat of a body and a wide smile looking up at him. “Hi!” June grinned ear to ear.

“Hi June.” He spoke in a softer voice than normal. He wasn’t one to play favourites, but June reminded him so much of himself when he was younger, struggling with gender identity in a household like the one he grew up in was definitely a challenge. He would always be so thankful to his friends for helping him transition after he left, leaving was by far the best decision he’s ever made. “How are you?”

They hummed. “Alright…” They trailed off.

“What?” Regulus asked sceptically.

“Oh nothing.” June waved their hands in the air dismissively, leaving a few moments of silence before looking behind at where all the other students walked, and then back at Regulus. “You just kept looking behind yourself, looking really fucking depressed might I add, then sulked off again.” They shrugged.

Regulus felt his eyes widen, a noise of offends escaping his mouth. “Hey! Don’t analyse me.” He retorted. “And I’m not sulking, don’t be nosy.”

“Okay!” They raised their hands in surrender, a smirk still lingering on their lips. “If it helps, James is wearing the exact same expression.”

“What-“

“Bye!” They jogged off with a wave.

“-The fuck.” He finished after they left. “I hate kids.” He grumbled.

-

The lights were glistening, the fire hissing, the owls hooting and James Potters eyes shining. It was beautiful out, and in Regulus’ opinion, James’ face only added to that.

They sat together, legs entangled together far more than they actually needed, ignoring the fact that they had a whole blanket to themselves.

Gladly, the kids had managed to start some small fires, then James gave in and lit a bigger one so everyone could roast their marshmallows.

“Have you ever roasted skittles on a fire?” James spoke out of the blue.

“Excuse me?”

“Have you ever-“

Regulus coughed out a laugh. “No I heard you the first time, James. But of course not.” He rolled his eyes, emphasising his point with a gag.

“It’s actually very nice, Regulus!”

“Abomination.”

-

They carried on like this all night, bickering, laughing, throwing random bits of food and leaves at each other while they waited for the time to pass.

Now, Regulus sat lay on his back while James made sure he could still see the teens. He looked up at the full moon, it was dotted through the leaves of the trees but still quite visible and as bright as ever before.

He rolled his head to the side slightly, catching sight of James’ veined dark hands spread out on the blanket next to him. Every now and again he’d shift, playing with his rings and fiddling with his hands randomly. All Regulus wanted to do right now was place his hand atop the older boys, but he couldn’t just do that.

So he just waited, he wasn’t sure what for, but he did anyway. Maybe for James to look at him, all so he could make a snarky comment because he doesn’t know what else to say, but James seems to weirdly like it, so that works in his favour.

It wasn’t until James turned his head to look directly at Regulus, catching his eye and holding it with his hazel doe irises for a few seconds before reaching that same hand out to him.

The coolness of his fingers combed through Regulus’ hair. It was quick, but soon James grabbed a leaf and held it up with an amused expression on his face.

His tan skin was engulfed with the light of the flames before them, highlighting even the tiniest of details and turning his eyes a whole new colour which Regulus decided was so utterly gorgeous.

James reached another finger out, brushing the loose curl of Regulus’ raven hair behind and tucked into his overly pierced ears. He gave a proud smile, nodding and tossing the leaf on the floor.

“There, that’s better.” He spoke softly, clearly not aware to the awe struck wonder on Regulus face, and the red flush that was certainly not from the heat of the flames. Even the way Regulus froze and watched him smile and hum along to a random song, and James just chuckled.

God, this man was oblivious, because Regulus was sure he was doing a pretty shit job at hiding this.

Next part

[toppersbitch]

Innocence // JJ Maybank x Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Summary: JJ overhears a convo between Kie, Sarah, and you and decided to take matters into his own hands.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: smoking marijuana, alcohol,  teasing, praise kink, choking, begging, unedited work

-----------------------------

The heat of the fire lit your face as you sat leaning on Kie. Sarah sat across, roasting a marshmallow. The pipe was passed to you, you held the light and covered the hole, taking a long inhale. The back of your throat burned, and your head clouded as you held your breath. You finally exhaled, watching it mix with the smoke from the fire. 

“Girls' night is gonna be so fun,” you giggled, “Finally we can gossip without the boys.” 

“About the boys,” Sarah said, letting out she inhale of smoke. 

“Give me more, I don’t wanna think,” you said grabbing for the pipe again. You took a hit, sitting there. You goofily flopped onto your side, letting the breath out. 

“I don’t want to think about Kelce for another second,” you had just broken up with him, a year of your life down the drain. 

“I don’t even know why you got with him,” Sarah giggled.

“It’s not like he’s even good in bed,” Kie said, staring straight at you. 

“Why the fuck would you know?” Sarah asked, a baffled look on her face. 

“Woah woah not like that, y/n told me.” Kie threw her hands up in the air signaling she was innocent. 

“Wait tell all!” Sarah got up and skipped over to Kie and you. She kneeled and smiled widely. 

“Okay well-��� you paused gathering your thoughts, “he doesn’t like foreplay.” They both dropped their hands to their laps, eyes wide. 

“Like none at all?” Sarah started at you while hitting the pipe. 

“Like maybe like a minute of fingering max,” you thought back to all the times, “oh and he never reciprocated oral.” 

“Oh my god you have to be kidding!” Kie threw her hands in the air, “you never told me all that.” 

“He’s also never touched my boobs, only grazed by fucking accident,” you rolled your eyes. 

Kie and Sarah both looked at them with eyes wide open. 

“And I’ve only orgasmed twice,” you smiled goofily.

“Out of how many times?” Kie added a marshmallow to her stick.

“Lik-“ you were cut off abruptly. 

“AHHHHHHH” the boys come jumping out of the bushes, alcohol in hand. 

You jumped up, terror filling you. Kie threw her roasting stick, marshmallow and all. Sarah covered her eyes and curled into herself. 

They began to laugh, JJ falling holding his stomach with one hand and a bottle of vodka with the other. John B picked up Sarah, and Pope dodged Kie’s stick. 

“You guys were supposed to come back till tomorrow morning,” you pouted, worrying they heard anything you said. 

“Well coming early never hurt anyone,” JJ raised an eyebrow at you. You felt yourself blushing as everyone else laughed. 

“Pretend like you didn’t hear please I’m begging,” you placed your hands together flat and shook them towards him. He began to laugh at you, holding his stomach. 

“Maybe you should’ve done that for Kelce,” he slapped his knee, and you shot him a glare. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” his hands surrendered. 

The conversations and laughs continued through the night, the fire slowly dying as you all stopped trying to keep it alive. John B and Sarah disappeared into the château, and Kie and Pope retired to sleeping bags on the HMS Pogue. It was only you and JJ, poking at the ashes on the fire. 

“Soooo,” JJ dragged out, raising an eyebrow, “how are you feeling about your breakup?” 

You rolled your eyes, the inevitable topic of the week. You dropped the stick you had been poking around with. 

“Fine I guess, kinda lonely.” You laid back on the blanket, laying a hand across your stomach. 

“You can’t be lonely when I’m here,” JJ jumped up, dragging his blanket towards yours. He laid down hitting his head on yours. 

“Ow, watch it.” You said bringing a hand to rub the spot. You laid, top of head to top of the head. You felt his hair, softer than any hair you’d ever felt. You lost yourself, running your hands in it.

His hand lazily draped itself onto your face, feeling your nose and eyes, and finally stopping to caress your jaw. His thumb found your lips and your hand halted it playing in his hair. His thumb slid across your upper lip, then pushed down on the bottom. You opened and his thumb slipped inside, he pushed down on your bottom teeth as you swirled your tongue around.

He slid the finger out, your lips smacking back together. 

“Good girl,” JJ whispered, your stomach filled with butterflies as your body began to tingle.

His hand disappeared from view and his head came back into view shortly after. He had a gentle smile on his face as you sat up. The two of you sat across from each other. 

“So Kelce really never touched your…” He finished by looking down, his eyes falling upon your breasts in the tank top.

“No,” you shook your head, looking down ashamed. You subconsciously began to pick at your fingers, trying your hardest to ignore JJ’s gaze on you. 

“No, don't be embarrassed,” he grabbed your hands to stop the picking, “some men just don’t know how to please a woman.” 

You let out a breathy laugh, your body shaking. His hand moved up from your hand to your arms. Squeezing lightly, his fingered tips were rough and calloused in comparison to your soft and tanned skin. He reached for the strap of your tank top, stopping. 

“May I?” He made eye contact, and you nodded. He moved the straps off your shoulders, you pulled the top over your head. You became alarmingly aware of how much skin was showing now. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he smiled down at you, his hands laying on your thighs, “here I’ll take my off too.” He lifted him off and you looked up and down his tanned and toned body. 

“Come on, you can touch,” he pulled your hand to his abs, “I know you want to,” he smirked at you winking. You allowed yourself to run your hands down his abs, feeling every line. You felt your way down his happy trail, tracing the band of his swim trunks. 

You pulled at them, letting them bounce back onto his skin. He let out a gasp and you a giggle. 

“Cruel,” he said, his hand moving forward, his finger grazing over your clothed cunt. Your body jumped, and you looked up and saw a smirk on his face. He continued to move his hand, reaching for the button of your shorts. 

He began to unbutton them, watching your face as you watched his hands. 

“Is this alright?” He asked, you nodded eagerly. “Hm?” He questioned your response. 

“Yes, it’s alright.” You said just wanted him to rip them off already. You laid back allowing him to pull them off. His hands met your hips, making you tense and relax. His finger plays with the bikini bottoms. His hands continued up until they were caressing your face, and he moved to straddle you. 

“So Kelce never did any of this?” His thumb moved back and forth across your face. 

“No,” you pressed your face into his hands, forcing more contact. 

“Do you want to keep going?” His eyes met with yours, piercing blue into yours.

“Yeah,” your voice was barely above a whisper. He moved his head down towards you. Connecting your lips, finally giving you some release. His tongue pressed into your mouth, and you gasped for air. His tongue fought with yours in a playful way, leaving you on the edge of dominance. 

His hands kneaded every inch of your body, finally landing on a breast. You moaned in response, you chuckled into the kiss. 

“Such a good girl,” he praised your noises, and your body tingled again, “tell me how good I make you feel,” one hand moved up to your throat and squeezed lightly, “tell me.”

“Mhmm so good,” you barely responded through your moans. 

He moved down, pulling your breasts out of its cup, his mouth attached to your tit. His tongue moved around widely while he sucked. His hand moved down slipping into your bottoms. His finger moved along the slit. 

“Please,” you begged through moans. He slid a finger in, pumping it in and out. You moved your hips, wishing to feel more. He lifted his head from your chest and smirked up. He slid another finger in, making a different feeling arise. He began to move his fingers differently, hitting your g-spot. You bucked your hips up, he moved his fingers faster. Your stomach tightened, and your hand gripped JJ’s forearm. You could feel his muscles tensing with every movement. Your entire body tensed up, ecstasy taking over. You dug your nails into his arms, his fingers still pumping in and out. 

“One more,” he urged you, his hand continuing its movements. Quickly your stomach released and tightened again. You pushed your legs together, JJ’s free hand moving to push them open, he continued moving his fingers in and out. 

“Come on darlin.”

“Fuck,” you whined out, and your leg began to shake involuntarily. Your body is filled with static, an overwhelming feeling taking over your body. 

“Good, just like that,” JJ said, his voice gruff and demanding. He stopped, slowly pulling out his fingers. His hand traveled up your mouth, his fingers lightly grazing your skin. He pushed his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself, “so good for me.”

He pulled up your bikini bottoms, his hands resting on your hips. 

“Thank you, JJ,” your voice was surprisingly light and quiet. 

“Anytime you need baby,” he laughed his normal JJ laugh, laying down on his back, “now go to sleep,” he was using his fake authoritative voice. You did so, watching the stars above you, the view interrupted by tree branches above

-----------------------------

I won't lie this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for so long(like fr since season 2 was released)! I figured this was the perfect time to finish and post it. I hope everyone enjoys!!!

Find my other stuff HERE

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Honkai Star Rail A/B/O: Express Trio

Characters: Caelus, Dan Heng, and March.

CW: omegaverse, implied nsfw

A/N: I thought about my fave trio for a second too long :3c

-------

Caelus

People often get confused on his secondary gender and are torn between a strong smelling Beta or a weak smelling Alpha, but he's truthfully an omega. Another reason this is, is because he has little idea on how to be an omega so he just does whatever feels right to him.

He also just refuses to wear a collar, finding it uncomfortable even with the softer kinds.

Smells like citrus, specifically oranges including the bitter peel regularly but during his heats the sweetness of sugar gets added. He smells delicious.

Prefers to spend his heats surrounded by stuff he's found on his travels...and trash cans. At least he cleans the items up before he adds them to his nest?

Has a favorite blanket that MUST be in his nest or he'll freak out. It was one of the first gifts he received from his dear friends since he joined the Astral Express and thus one of the very few things he can call his own.

When he's with his partner, regardless of their secondary gender, he loves to build his nest with them and include their own bedding with his.

Wants to spend his heats with his partner no matter their secondary and gets sad when they need to leave his nest even for short periods. Don't worry he bounces right back into being a content omega once they rejoin him, just give him extra cuddles for leaving he deserves it.

Dan Heng

He's an Alpha but his pheromones are a bit of a mess due to his...past so he mostly keeps his scent glands covered up as much as possible.

Smells like rain and fresh ink on parchment but covers it up with scent patches and high collared clothes.

If he has an omega partner he prefers for them to scent him rather than scent them himself, though he won't mind scenting their bedding should they need it for their nest.

His ruts don't' come consistently which is inconvenient but at least they only last for a few days. Prefers to deal with his rut alone as he's so uncomfortable it's hard for him to be in the mood. Though if his partner wants to stay by his side he'll let them and hide with them under his sheets as they lay beside him.

On the rare chance he's in the mood he's not gonna leave his bed or their nest for anything besides necessities.

Once he bonds with his partner his ruts become more consistent and he finds himself in the mood more often than not so

During his partners heats he'll tend to them but he won't treat them like they're like fragile glass. He'll stick by their side reading a book beside them and occasionally get up to get what they need. He's more open to helping out during their heats than dealing with his own ruts because he prefers to focus on his partner over himself.

March 7th

An omega as well though her scent tends to be more on the stronger side. It can get a bit overwhelming when she's upset but smells like heaven when she's content or happy.

She smells like a cool desert of marshmallows and strawberries with mint.

Likes to wear collars over wearing just scent patches as she can get super cute ones that match her adorable aesthetic. She has a whole collection of cute collars she likes to use daily and for special occasions.

Struggles with building her nests as she wants to add multiple things to it at once in one spot but give her some time and she'll eventually figure it all out. Welcomes her partner to help build her nest with her but each piece's must get her approval before it goes in. Her nests are filled with soft toys and tons of pillows.

Likes to spend her heats with her partner just cuddling rather than having fun, not that she's opposed but she mostly feels kinda achy and gross so she'd prefer some comfort until she's feeling better. Once she's ready for fun her partner better spoil her rotten!

Doesn't care too much about her partners presentation though I feel she might prefer an omega partner since they could relate and bond more.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

off-camera

pair: Walker Scobell x reader

summary: y/n(she/her) and Walker have their first kiss (off camera)

masterlist | navigation

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It was a chilly Friday evening on set, and Walker could hardly contain his excitement. Filming had wrapped up early, giving the cast and crew some free time to relax. The sky was turning a deep shade of purple, stars beginning to peek out, and the air was filled with the kind of excitement that only comes after a long, successful day of work.

Y/N was sitting on a low wall just outside the trailer, her face lit up by the soft glow of the overhead lights. She was bundled up in a thick, oversized hoodie that practically swallowed her whole. Walker thought she looked adorable, like a cozy marshmallow. He found himself smiling as he watched her, a warm feeling blooming in his chest.

He walked over, trying to play it cool. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, hands shoved in his pockets. “Mind if I join you?”

She looked up and grinned, patting the space next to her. “Not at all. It’s kind of nice out here, isn’t it?”

Walker nodded, sitting down beside her. He could feel the warmth of her body next to his, even through their layers of clothing. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching as the sky grew darker and the stars brighter.

“So,” Y/N said after a while, turning to face him. “You did really great today. The directors were all over the moon about your scene.”

Walker shrugged, trying to hide his blush. “Thanks. I mean, you were amazing too. I don’t know how you keep nailing your lines every single time.”

She laughed, a soft, musical sound that made Walker’s heart skip a beat. “Lots of practice, I guess. Or maybe I just have a great scene partner.”

He looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. Y/N’s eyes were sparkling, reflecting the starry sky above. Her cheeks were slightly pink from the cold, and her smile was the kind that made Walker feel like he could take on the world.

“Walker?” she said, her voice a little softer now. “You okay?”

He nodded slowly, his heart pounding. “Yeah, I’m good. Actually… there’s something I’ve been wanting to do.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Walker swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. This was it. No turning back now. “I’ve been wanting to do this,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Before he could overthink it, he leaned in, his eyes fluttering closed. He felt Y/N’s breath hitch, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in too, meeting him halfway.

The kiss was soft, gentle, and oh-so-sweet. It was like a scene from one of their movies, but so much better because it was real. Y/N’s lips were warm against his, and Walker could feel his heart soaring. He reached up, cupping her cheek with his hand, deepening the kiss just a little.

When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless, cheeks flushed. Walker opened his eyes to see Y/N looking at him, a dazed smile on her face.

“Wow,” she breathed, her voice filled with wonder. “That was… wow.”

Walker grinned, his heart racing with happiness. “Yeah. Wow.”

They sat there for a moment, just looking at each other, and then they both burst out laughing. It was the kind of laugh that came from deep within, filled with joy and relief and the thrill of a perfect first kiss.

[afewproblems]

A little snippet of something new for y'all:

"You gonna order something or what?" Steve grumbles, ignoring the slight furrow of Eddie's brow.

He reaches for the metal scooper in the warm water bucket next to the till and taps it on the lip of the bucket, removing the excess milky water from the scoop. Steve wrinkles his nose as a few droplets hit the top of his knees.

God this job is gross.

Eddie follows Steve's path and steps towards the display case, laying both hands on the glass. He doesn't take his eyes off of Steve's, maintaining eye contact as he smiles wolfishly.

"Sample of rocky road if you please," Eddie says smoothly, tapping his ringed fingers against the glass, the surface of which Steve spent the better part of his morning cleaning fingerprints off before Robin left for her first fifteen.

Steve sighs and puts the metal scoop back before turning around to snatch one of the paper cups and blue sample spoons from the shelves behind him.

He bends down slightly to grab it from the bottom before standing back up and turning around just in time to see Munson flush pink and lower his gaze to the ice cream which…huh.

Steve looks around the food court curiously, trying to find whoever it was that would make Eddie Munson of all people blush like that.

The food court is dead for the most part, besides the people already working, and apparently Eddie, there's no one here.

Steve scoffs under his breath, leave it to Munson to play some kind of 'made-you-look' at their age.

"Do they train you guys to move at a glacial pace or is that some of the Harrington flare I've heard so much about?" Eddie sighs, his sneaker tapping against the tiled floor.

He's still smirking, and Steve wants to be annoyed by Eddie's jabs. If it were Tommy he'd have left the counter by now. For God's sake, it's nearly identical to something Carol would say but the venom is missing, the heat, leaving the words softer. More of a tease than a taunt.

Steve and Eddie hadn't really crossed paths much while he was still in school.

By the time Eddie had really begun to lean into his freakzoid persona Steve was already hanging from the bottom rung of the social ladder. Avoiding the metal-heads derisive gaze and Tommy's vitriol as best as he could, by mostly sticking with Nancy and Jonathan during that last year.

Honestly Steve hardly remembers speaking more than a word or two to Munson.

Steve jabs the little blue spoon into the tub of Rocky Road and scrapes the sides, careful to avoid any of the marshmallow pieces or nuts -what can he say, Steve is nothing if not a little petty.

He hands the sample to Eddie who takes one look at the dessert and laughs.

And not one of Carol's fake tinkling laughs or Tommy's sneering scoffs. This seems to catch Eddie off guard with surprise delight.

Steve can't stop his own small smile that pulls at his lips as Eddie takes a bite, still chuckling and shakes his head.

"You're a trip Harrington, I'll be back for the customer service," Eddie says, tapping his knuckles against the glass display as he turns on his heel and makes his way to the main part of the mall.

Steve shakes his head, still smiling slightly, marveling at the interaction.

He blames it on the boredom.

Yeah, that has to be it.

[tellmealovestory]

Cozy

Summary: Eddie discovers the softer things in life.

Warnings: None. Pure softness and fluff!

Spooktober Masterlist

Before you Eddie didn’t know the meaning of softness or comfort. He was used to threadbare sheets and thin quilts with holes in them that did little to keep the chill out when the temperatures dipped. Pillows that were so old they were lumpier than oatmeal. But they were his and for the time before you came into his life they were good enough. 

After you though, well after you Eddie knew the meaning of comfort and softness and home.

It had started slowly, you moving in a few of your things. A toothbrush here. A favorite sweater or book left lying around there. Your preferred canisters of coffee and baked cookies. 

It was slow and subtle enough that not even Wayne noticed or had a thing to say. 

That all changed when Eddie came home after work one day. Limbs tired from exhaustion. Bleary eyed and eager to sink into the well worn couch and light up a joint. As soon as he opened the screen door he knew something was off. He inhaled deeply and as he stepped foot into the trailer it smelled like what he imagined a functional family holiday would be.

The spice of pumpkin pie straight out of the oven. Tart cranberries. Rich cinnamon. Sweet vanilla. 

Candles flickered across the surface of the narrow kitchen counter and on the rickety table that sat in front of the ancient couch which was surely older than him. 

But it wasn’t just the rich and welcome candles he saw burning and smelled it was what was on the furniture that made him pause in the doorway. 

Deep orange and burgundy blankets lay draped across the couch and Wayne’s recliner. And when he didn’t see you at first he walked the short distance to his bedroom to catch you laying a navy blue blanket across the end of his bed, a candle also flickering in here that smelled of marshmallows, a little burnt just how he liked them on a bonfire. 

You didn’t notice him at first. Humming, you smoothed your hands over the blanket fixing any wrinkles that appeared and as Eddie stood in the doorway watching you he could feel himself falling for you even harder and the softness that you brought to his rough edged life. 

“You’ve been busy,” he said, a small smile creeping on his face when you finally glanced up from your project and went over to greet him. A soft kiss on his stubbled cheek and he noted how you smelled like the candles; comforting and warm and his. 

Later, after dinner’s been had and conversation has been exhausted, teeth brushed and fresh pajamas put on, snuggled beneath that thin threadbare quilt and covered with the lush velvet blanket, you curled into his awaiting arms half asleep you mumbled, “Is it too much? The blankets and the candles and the food?” 

“No,” he said quickly, because it’s not. It’s perfect. It’s all perfect. You’re perfect. He wants to tell you those exact words, but sleep has already called and pulled you under and he knows this, making things nice and soft, showing him that he deserves kindness and love is your own way of telling him that you care about him. 

There’s another day for those words. Right now he just enjoys the softness and you in his arms. 

[p0ssywhippedcream]

L strikes me as someone who has trouble sleeping (obviously) so after working really late into the night he would walk from his desk to your room and just tap on your head and ask if he can sleep in your room just because he finds your presence comforting

He knows you’re close but he doesn’t know if you’re that close. Honestly, you’re the first real friend he’s ever had and he doesn’t really understand the invisible rules of friendship.

He gets in your face, fixes your lopsided shirt and constantly plucks candy from your hands. I. return, you drag a finger along your lip and smear lipstick on his cheeks, ruffle his hair and “manhandle” him wherever he’s walking, pushing and pulling him every which way.

Neither one of you have very defined physical boundaries and neither one of you mind very much, even if your mouth-breathing on his neck gets annoying sometimes.

Today, you’d been particularly impressive with how much you’d provoked him. You’d taken a nap on his shoulder, which wouldn’t have bothered him so much except your drool traveled all the way from his collarbones to his crotch. You licked your hand and pushed his face away with it. You knocked over his marshmallow tower and worst of all, you ate the last slice of Ultimate Triple Double-Layered Chocolate Cake.

Despite all of this, when you yawned and hugged him goodnight, his mood dropped as you dramatically sashayed away. Light made a comment about finally being able to focus but L’s eyes followed you sadly as you ran into the door and cursed under your breath.

2 hours later, you were snoozing away in your room, one sock on and a baggy t-shirt halfway up your torso as your legs sag over the bed. Light has gone to bed and L’s brain just wouldn’t turn off no matter how hard he tried.

You rolled over and about tumbled over the edge of your mattress, your right foot stuck in blankets the only thing preventing it. L chuckled to himself.

You looked warm. The smooth expanse of your stomach looked soft. The little breathy gasps coming out of your mouth and the flayed out mess of your hair, he noted every detail of your sleeping form.

Then he stood up. He made his way up the elevator, down the hall and found himself at your door. He didn’t want to wake you but out of habit, his knuckles tapped lightly on the wood anyway.

Silence but the sound of your breathing from within. L pushed the door open. Closed it. Softly padded over to your low bed.

Then he knocked on your forehead. Gently but nonetheless knocking like he wanted to be let into your mind.

“Y/n… Y/n…”

“Mmmmm…”

“Y/n…” He said a bit more urgently, a whisper yell.

“Mmmm.. wh-what..?” Your eyes were still closed and he was still knocking.

“Can I sleep with you?”

“What?” You made a confused face and blinked a few times.

“In your bed, can I sleep with you?”

“That doesn’t make it any better… You want to have sex with me?” You mumble and plant a hand to sit up on, pushing your face into his as you yawn the sleep away.

“No, not sexual intercourse! I just-… Can I sleep beside you?” He rephrased quickly, his panicked whispers hot on your face.

You grunted and reached up to fist his collar. With another yawn and a groan, you tugged his body down to the bed with shocking strength. He landed above you and bounced a little on the bed.

He was about to say something really smart like “Uh nuh” when you shoved him to the side and he landed on his back. Your bed was really warm and so were you, his hand was draped over your waist still and he sighed breathily.

L felt a lot of things currently. He felt hot, like really hot and nervous. He felt comfortable, because both your bed and you were way softer than he imagined. He felt intrusive, like he wondered into one of your intimate dreams and become a mismatched part of it. And he felt so, so happy.

He shifted a little closer to you, his thighs touching the back of yours and he breathed in the scent of your hair. He felt your heartbeat with his right hand still on your torso, he felt your breathing too. Then he realized you’d fallen back asleep, your airy snores resumed easily.

His hand twitched and he held you a little tighter. He was allowed into this good, comfortable moment. He was going to enjoy this good, comfortable moment because he knew this was the only time he’d ever have it, just as it is.

You smelled good. You moved and his hands were full of beautiful goodness. You were close. His nose on your neck, his eyes searching for your face in the unforgiving dark and his lips puffing out pathetic whimpers.

L eventually fell asleep eternally grateful for this gift from the universe; a gift of a moment with someone he didn’t deserve. He would clutch and have this moment for all it’s worth, he would have you for all you’d give him.

The next morning, you noticed the back of your shirt was wet and the front of it was balled tightly in scared, gentle hands.

[azeal-peal]

Confessions

Description- Mattheo Riddle is your boyfriend. Although he can be quite nasty to others around him he has a soft spot for his friends and an even softer spot for you. When you have a big confession about yourself he is all ears. This leads to you ending the night with a warm bath together.

It was a chilly Saturday evening, you and Mattheo were sitting in your shared dorm as the two of you snuggles close. He had made you both hot chocolate with marshmallows to sip on while you two talked. It was a long day for both of you and you needed this moment together to relax. "Hmph. That will teach that fool to ever touch you again!!" He said as he told you about a fight he had gotten into earlier. He won of course.

you lift his hand to kiss his knuckles "i know mi príncipe, i just don't like seeing you hurt"

"I'm alright, mi amor," Mattheo responded, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. "I'll always protect you, no matter what." He took a sip of his hot chocolate and leaned back against the pillows, pulling you closer to him. "But enough about that, how was your day?"

"it was good..." you say meekly

Mattheo noticed your tone and turned to face you fully, concern etched on his face. "Is everything alright, mi amor? You know you can talk to me about anything." He placed a hand on your cheek and brushed his thumb gently across it.

"i know but- its just i miss you when your not with me"

Mattheo smiled softly and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I miss you too, mi amor. But we're always together, no matter the distance." He leaned in to give you a gentle kiss. "And we have each other now, that's what matters."

"have i told you how much i appreciate you mi Principe" you say looking into his eyes

Mattheo smiled warmly at you. "You don't have to thank me, mi amor. I do it because I love you." He leaned in and gave you a soft kiss on the lips. "You mean the world to me, and I will always be here for you."

you move closer to him trying to get more skin contact

Mattheo smiled and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. "I'm here, mi amor. Always." He held you close and ran his fingers through your hair, enjoying the feeling of your closeness. "I love you."

you look up to him "i love you the mostest" you say with a dopey grin

Mattheo chuckled and kissed you gently. "I love you even more than that, mi amor," he said with a warm smile. "You bring so much joy and love into my life, and I am grateful for you every day."

"even if i had a secret i'm scared to tell anyone?"

"Of course, mi amor," Mattheo replied, his voice filled with reassurance. "You can always tell me anything. I'm here to support you and love you, no matter what." He held onto you tighter, wanting to show you that you could trust him completely. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it together."

"but what if it really serious" you say tears welling in your eyes

Mattheo wiped away your tears gently and held your hand. "No matter what it is, mi amor, we'll face it together. You can trust me, and I promise to always be here for you." He leaned in and gave you a soft kiss, trying to comfort you. "I love you, and nothing can change that."

"whatifidontfeellikeagirlsometimes?' you mumble into his shirt

Mattheo listened carefully and pulled away slightly to look into your eyes. "That's okay, mi amor. People feel all sorts of things, and it doesn't change who they are inside." He took a deep breath and gave you a reassuring smile. "You are who you are, and I love you no matter what. You don't have to fit into any specific mold. Just be yourself, and I will always be here to support you."

you look up at him through your eyelashes "even if i feel like a boy sometimes?" you whisper, scared of his reaction

Mattheo took a deep breath and looked into your eyes with love. "Yes, mi amor. Even if you feel like a boy sometimes, I will still love you and support you." He paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Gender is a complicated thing, and it's okay to feel confused or unsure. The most important thing is to be true to yourself, and I will always love you for who you are, no matter what." He leaned in and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead. "You are my mi amor, and that's all that matters."

"can we research this tomorrow because there is a lot i don't understand but want too?" you whisper feeling exhausted after your guys talk

"Of course, mi amor," Mattheo replied, his voice gentle and soothing. "We can research together and learn more about it. I will always be here to support you and help you understand." He pulled you closer and ran his fingers through your hair, trying to ease your worries. "You don't have to face anything alone, mi amor. I'm here for you, always."

you sit up long enough to take your bra off the lay right on top of Mattheo.

Mattheo smiled at you as you laid back down on top of him. "Feeling more comfortable now, mi amor?" he asked with a playful grin. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, enjoying the feeling of your warmth and closeness.

you gently tap his arm "fyi yes much more comfy" you say with a giggle.

Mattheo chuckled softly and kissed the top of your head. "I'm glad to hear that, mi amor," he said, a smile still playing on his lips. He held you close and ran his fingers through your hair, enjoying the feeling of your closeness. "Is there anything else you want to talk about, mi amor?"

"are you sure you want to sleep in your school uniform or do you want to take a bath together?"

Mattheo blushed slightly at your suggestion. "I wouldn't mind a bath with you, mi amor," he said with a smile. "But we better make it quick, don't want to get in trouble for being out of uniform." He stood up and took your hand, leading you to the bathroom.

"that's not what i meant i just want a hot relaxing bath with you... no funny business tonight" you say looking at your feet so he cant see the deep blush on your cheeks.

Mattheo chuckled softly and placed a hand on your cheek, lifting your face to look at him. "I know, mi amor. I was just teasing," he said with a warm smile. "A hot bath with you sounds perfect." He led you to the bathroom and started filling up the tub with warm water.

you turn towards the sink to light a smoked vanilla candle

Mattheo watched as you lit the candle and the sweet scent filled the room. "That smells amazing, mi amor," he said with a smile. "It's the perfect atmosphere for a relaxing bath." He added some lavender essential oil to the water and stirred it gently, creating a soothing aroma.

you turn towards him with a smile "gracias mi principe"

Mattheo smiled back at you. "De nada, mi amor," he said, his voice soft and gentle. "Anything for you." He took your hand and helped you into the warm bath water, settling in next to you. The warm water and soothing scent of the candle filled the room, creating a peaceful atmosphere.

you turn so you can lean back against him with a smile feeling relived that he didn't hate

Mattheo wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, enjoying the feeling of your closeness. He rested his chin on your shoulder and took a deep breath, relishing in the soothing scent of the lavender and smoked vanilla. "This is perfect, mi amor," he whispered softly. "Just the two of us, relaxing and enjoying each other's company."

" i love you mi principe, thank you for always being there for me"

"I love you too, mi amor," Mattheo replied, his voice filled with affection. "I will always be here for you, no matter what. You mean the world to me, and I will do anything to make you happy." He gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek and held you close, enjoying the peaceful moment together.

"you are my world if anything happened to you i would burn everything if it meant that you would be ok" you say relaxing even more in is arms

Mattheo's eyes widened at your words, realizing just how much you cared for him. He hugged you tighter and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. "I would do the same for you, mi amor," he whispered. "You are my everything, and I would do anything to protect you and keep you safe." He held you close, enjoying the warmth and comfort of the moment.

you tilt your head to the side and gently kiss his shoulder

Mattheo smiled at your touch and leaned his head back against the tub, enjoying the feeling of your soft lips on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh, feeling at peace in your arms.

[reginaldqueribundus]

Could I beat that Star Trek doctor in a fight?

Joseph M'Benga: no. god no. the man was so good at murder they tried to get him to quit his doctor job and go back to it. trust me you don't want that smoke

T'Ana: no way. she's angry all the time and she's part cat. she would kick my ass dude. and probably make out with Shaxs on top of my unconscious body, eww

Hugh Culber: absolutely fucking not. that guy was dead for half a season and spent the entire time working out like he was in prison. then he came back to life to punch his murderer. I'm not messing with him

Phlox: Phlox seems like a pushover. Do we ever see him do anything physical? I guess he could sic his pet bat on me or something.

The Doctor: he's just a hologram so it wouldn't be very satisfying. you can't even punch him. yet I still kinda wanna slap his bald head for acting like an incel

Julian Bashir: easy W. genetically engineered reflexes or not that twink is softer than a marshmallow in a microwave. the danger comes from the deadly assassin and powerful Irishman protecting him

Beverly Crusher: Blazin Bev has hidden depths, she would probably kick your ass and tap dance on it. I personally would be too busy simping to fight her anyway

Kathryn Pulaski: yeah you could beat Pulaski, if only in the name of standing up for Data, but why would you want to

Leonard McCoy: listen. McCoy had a scalpel held to his throat and his response was pointing out his jugular so he'd die faster. I don't think it's possible to defeat him in a way that matters

as for the other shows, Picard didn't really have a doctor character besides Jurati, but she wasn't a medical doctor. She also killed a dude and turned into a Borg Queen so, y'know. Probably a bad idea to start shit with her. I don't think the Prodigy gang really had a doctor either unless you count Zero? I feel like I could just knock them over pretty easily but if they takes off that containment suit it's game over. I really wanna beat up the Dauntless's shitty Tellarite doctor though.

[vapolis]

Kind of piggybacking off of the bed ask

How would the ROs act to a Merc that just wraps themselves around the ROs? They're like an octopus. Imo it's better if the Merc acts like a hard ass but their true marshmallow self comes out in their sleep. 😂

orla is not a cuddler and would try to detangle herself. she'd allow it for all of ten minutes before waking the merc and rolling them back on their side of the bed. she'd be happy to entangle a hand or have the merc cross their legs with hers but not anything more. she wouldn't mention it much but would be secretly touched to see the merc seek out close contact with her even at their most vulnerable.

royal wouldn't have guessed that the merc likes to cling to their partner in bed, but loves it because they're the same usually. the closer they can get to each other the better in royal's opinion and they'd welcome it bc it makes them feel save.

dante/delilah does not like close contact when it comes to the actual sleeping part in the bed and much prefer to have their back be pressed against the merc's for safety and comfort both. they'd still allow the merc to cling to them out of love but wouldn't get much sleep and if it's a bad night, might end up feeling trapped.

jax would be alright with it as long as it doesn't hinder his movements or access to weapons, though he'd prefer to be the one holding the merc, seeing as he sleeps closer to the door and has to be a lot on the move even throughout the night. he'd totally be an ass about it though and tease them about being a lot softer than they try to appear to be.